


To Wash It White As Snow

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Malfoy Manor, Wakes & Funerals, Widowed, accidental murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 79,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17372915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: 1978. In the midst of an attack, Bellatrix accidentally kills her beloved husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. Crushed to her core by what she's done, Bellatrix is unable to function. Lord Voldemort attempts to help his most important soldier work through the trauma of the disaster. The circumstances feel sinful and yet entirely unavoidable as new sensations creep into the healing.





	1. Do You Remember?

**October 1978**

_Bellatrix swayed to the beautiful orchestral music, feeling beautiful in her black tulle gown. This was fun, she thought. She was having a good time at this ball. Rodolphus smiled down at her, but there was sadness in his eyes. He leaned down a little and whispered,_

' _I have to leave, Bells.'_

_Bellatrix furrowed her brows, confused. She shook her head and demanded softly, 'Whatever do you mean, Dolph?'_

' _Don't worry,' her husband insisted. 'You'll be fine. You're a perfectly capable warrior. You'll take good care of yourself, Bells.'_

' _Dolph.' Bellatrix scoffed and shook her head. 'We've only been at this ball for an hour. There's entirely too much partying left to do to leave right now! It wouldn't be proper to leave yet.'_

_Rodolphus just stared at her peacefully, like nothing was wrong, and he stopped dancing with her. Bellatrix blinked rapidly a few times. Suddenly Rodolphus was gone. She looked around rather frantically, alone on the dance floor._

' _Dolph?'_

_She began to wander around the dance floor, pushing her way between mechanically dancing couples with blank expressions on their faces. Bellatrix shoved them aside, looking for Rodolphus. Then she saw Lord Voldemort - her lord and master - walking toward her across the floor as the orchestra began a new piece. He straightened his tuxedo robe and asked tightly,_

' _May I have the next dance, Madam Lestrange?'_

Bellatrix gasped awake, clutching at the blankets and gulping in air as she woke from her dream. From beside her, the large lump in the bed squirmed and mumbled,

"You all right, Bells?"

She lay down slowly beside Rodolphus, her heart pounding frantically. She shut her eyes and spooned him from behind, murmuring,

"Just a dream."

She kissed Rodolphus' honey-brown hair and began to touch his bare shoulder. She made note of his physicality, of the tightness of his muscles, the soft smoothness of his skin. She reached around him and began to brush her fingers on his thigh. Brushing her fingers around the hairy place on the interior of his leg, up toward his most private place, she was very evidently pushing for something physical, and Rodolphus let out a low rumble of a laugh.

"Mmmph. We have a meeting, Bells."

They did indeed have a meeting with Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters this morning. There were plans for an attack this evening - an ambush of supporters after a Quidditch match between the Chudley Cannons and the Kenmare Kestrals. It was intended to be an act of intimidation and terror, and the meeting would finalise details in the hours before the planned attack.

Bellatrix backed off her physical advance toward Rodolphus and let him slowly slide out of the bed, stumbling sleepily toward the bathroom. She eyed his bare backside as he called from the bathroom doorway,

"Believe me, Bells; if I could make love to you all morning, I would."

She grinned and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, brushing her fingers over her bare breasts. She shut her eyes and relished the feeling of her fingers on her nipples, and then she called out to Rodolphus,

"You owe me later, husband. I have needs."

"You have many needs, Bellatrix. I try to attend to as many of them as I possibly can," Rodolphus said back. She giggled, her eyes still shut, and she murmured,

"Yes, you do."

"Hmm?" he asked, and she called,

"You do a good job of it, darling."

"Thank you for the seal of approval." Rodolphus shut the door to the bathroom, and Bellatrix sighed deeply. She just lay there for a few moments, until the door opened again and Rodolphus appeared with a toothbrush in his mouth, leaning against the doorjamb. Bellatrix smirked at him, thinking about how handsome he was, how delightfully charming he was. She began to think of how lucky she'd been to marry him.

The two of them had dated from their fourth year of Hogwarts on. They'd married as soon as they'd left soon, as soon as they possibly could. Their wedding had been the event of the year for high society, and even Lord Voldemort - who had just begun to ascend at the time - had been in attendance. Both Bellatrix and Rodolphus had taken the Dark Mark the week before their wedding, swearing themselves to the Dark Lord's cause in perpetuity, and they had served most contentedly ever since.

"Dolph," Bellatrix said, staring at her husband as he cleaned his teeth. He raised his eyebrows, and she said rather seriously, "I love you."

He nodded. "Ruv you too, Bews."

She laughed at that, and finally decided to get out of bed and get ready. She Neatened the bed with a Charm and thought with another smirk about how often she and Rodolphus had romped and tangled in the bed's sheets. Suddenly she remembered losing her virginity to him. It had been in a deserted classroom in the Potions corridor at Hogwarts at two in the morning. Rodolphus had been a Prefect and had abused his position to help Bellatrix sneak out of the girls' dormitory. The little escapade had been messy and uncomfortable and  _perfect._

Bellatrix walked slowly into the bathroom, going to stand beside Rodolphus and watching him comb pomade through his thick honey-brown hair. She stared at his reflection in the mirror and asked,

"D'you remember the first time we… you know, in the classroom?"

He smiled. "Of course I remember. You were shaking like a leaf."

Bellatrix folded her arms. "I was terrified."

"Of me, or of getting caught?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I don't really know. It feels so long ago now. I haven't been afraid in a very long while now."

"No, you haven't," Rodolphus confirmed, petting Bellatrix's arm. "You are deliciously fearless."

Bellatrix just stared at him for a moment after that, before deciding to clean her teeth whilst he finished his hair. After eight years of marriage, they'd reached a level of supreme comfort with sharing these intimate tasks. Bellatrix next complained about her hair as she attempted to wrangle it into a thick braid, but Rodolphus insisted,

"I adore your curls. They make you  _you_."

She took the braid out, leaving her wild mane down. "Mad curls for the meeting, then."

Soon enough, they were both dressed in dignified robes, and they headed downstairs to the breakfast nook for a quiet breakfast of grapefruit and prosciutto. They lived in a comfortable semi-detached house on the outskirts of London. They had Muggle neighbours whom they ignored; it was worth it to have the independence of having bought the house themselves. They'd used their stipends from being Death Eaters rather than the Black and Lestrange family fortunes. Neither of them wanted to be beholden to their families over money and houses.

They had plans for children when the war was won. Bellatrix fretted that she would be a terrible mother, but Rodolphus insisted she'd be perfect - strict enough to control children's behaviour, yet fun and free enough to allow them an adventurous childhood. She'd be far better, he said, than most Pureblood mothers. Bellatrix anxiously awaited their victory under Lord Voldemort so that they could bring up their children in a proper wizarding world.

She and Rodolphus had a House-Elf called Dinky who was mostly useless. He was the best they'd been able to afford, and it showed. He was hyperactive and made mistakes. Bellatrix had spent two years beating the creature into oblivion, but she'd finally given up and resorted to just rolling her eyes and doing most things herself. Now she and Rodolphus left their breakfast plates on the table; surely Dinky could manage to clean them up.

They Disapparated from their home to Malfoy Manor, coming to outside the garden gate. Rodolphus quickly murmured the necessary spells to get them past the secret wards. Voldemort was paranoid about the Enemy showing up at these headquarters. He'd been based here for years, and both Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy fought for him as soldiers. Even Narcissa, Bellatrix's younger sister and Lucius' wife, was a sworn Death Eater who served as the hostess of the headquarters. Poor Cissy had miscarried six times. Something was wrong with her. But Bellatrix couldn't let her mind off the war to think about nonexistent babies.

Rodolphus and Bellatrix walked into the Manor holding hands. Everyone among the ranks teased them for being the Death Eaters in Love. For some reason, Voldemort did not seem amused by that teasing. He always shut down japes about it, and once he'd thrown a hex at someone who had joked,  _Did the Summons today interrupt marital relations between the Death Eaters in Love?_  Bellatrix thought it was rather curious, how much Voldemort seemed to despise that joking.

Inside the dining room, where the meeting was being held, there was utter silence. A dozen Death Eaters were already there, and Lord Voldemort was at the head of the table. His eyes went at once to where Bellatrix held Rodolphus' hand. Bellatrix released Rodolphus and curtsied low. Rodolphus bowed.

"Master," Bellatrix murmured reverently, saying the word like a prayer. In response, she got a nod and nothing more.

Lord Voldemort was a man of about fifty, but it was hard to tell. His face looked like he'd been attacked by a dragon. His skin was blistered and scarred. His hair was cropped very short, thin and completely grey. His lip was pulled up a little and his eye was pulled down. His cheekbone on one side seemed to have been shattered by a blunt impact. There were pale white lines crisscrossing the backs of his hands, his neck, and his forehead, as though someone had sliced his flesh open with razors and left him to heal on his own. His eyes were bloodshot.

Bellatrix didn't pay any heed to these scars and mars. To her, Voldemort was her magnificent master. He had always made her heart and stomach flutter. She had always felt a sincere compulsion to be near him. She had always adored everything about him, and she'd always felt a need to serve him entirely, heard and body and soul. She thought, maybe, that she loved him a little more devotedly than a servant ought to love her master. A little more… completely. She'd spent time alone with him, when he'd taught her Occlumency and some of the Dark Arts. She remembered once when he'd told her that she was his best soldier, and it had been one of the best moments of her life.

She shook off all those thoughts as she took her seat beside Rodolphus, next to Lucius and Narcissa. She smiled at her sister as the rest of the Death Eaters came into the room. The meeting began then, with Voldemort speaking slowly and calmly.

"My friends," he said, "the weather this evening at the match will be stormy and foul. No matter; the mission goes on despite the weather. But be cautious. Be careful. The very last thing we need is someone breaking a femur slipping in the mud."

Everyone smirked at one another at that, but Voldemort stayed serious. He folded his hands on the table and said,

"Use the Cruciatus Curse, Stunning Spells, and various hexes. Light infrastructure on fire. Killing Curses are to be cast in defence  _only_. This is an act of intimidation, not a slaughter."

Most of the Death Eaters nodded, but Avery cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Master, would it not be particularly intimidating to kill spectators?"

The room went so still all of a sudden that Bellatrix could practically hear the heartbeats around her. She gulped. Voldemort swished his wand through the air without warning, and as the wand sliced, Avery went soaring out of his chair. He flew through the air and crashed against the wood paneled wall. Suddenly he was choking, like an invisible hand was clutching his throat. Avery grasped at his neck and spluttered, gasping. Voldemort rose with preternatural calm and stalked with slow, easy steps across the dining room. He stood in front of Avery, who was pinned to the wall by magic, and he spoke loudly enough for all to hear him.

"I do not need to explain my orders to you, Avery. We are in the midst of a war that will determined the fate of the wizarding world, and I am your commanding master. You will follow my orders, or you will die. I have told you that you will cast Killing Curses defensively, and under no other circumstances. Do you understand me?"

Avery nodded frantically, and Voldemort let him collapse to the ground in a crumpled heap, still sputtering and choking. Voldemort turned to the table of terrified Death Eaters. Bellatrix's heart was pounding, and she reached for Rodolphus' hand.

Voldemort nodded. "We meet outside the Chudley Cannons' stadium at five. Be prompt. Be masked. Be ready to serve me. Dismissed."

**Author's Note: New Story! The idea for this story ("Bellatrix accidentally kills Rodolphus") came from an Anonymous Ask on Tumblr, so thanks for that! As you can tell, the pacing of this story indicates that it'll be pretty long. We also have a pretty stern, authoritarian Voldemort and we're starting out with a Bellatrix who's got a loooong way to go before she's going to be in love with Voldemort. So this one is going to be a long haul.**

**Thank you so very much for reading. If you get a quick moment, PLEASE REVIEW. I really do value your feedback.**


	2. Accident

Bellatrix sighed as she walked into the parlour of the house she shared with Rodolphus. They were just about ready to leave for the Quidditch stadium. She walked over to the glass case where she and Rodolphus stored their specialised Death Eater masks, and she pried open the angled lid. She pulled out both masks and carried them over to the plush, dark blue sofa. She sank down, setting the masks on the low wooden table before her.

Bellatrix dragged her fingers over the cool metal of their masks, contemplating them. Her own had gold filigree inlays, a curling and feminine design compared with the weightier, more masculine marks on the wizards' masks. Her mask was smaller for her little face, with a stitched-up sort of metal grate over her mouth. She was the only one who couldn't really hide. Her hair gave her away, for one thing. Then there was her tiny stature, and the swell of her breasts. It was why she could never be anything but a soldier for Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix Lestrange was known to the Ministry as a follower of the Dark Lord, and her husband Rodolphus was suspected alongside her.

She touched at Rodolphus' mask, which was black-on-silver. His design was harsh and masculine, strong and assertive. Bellatrix had no idea how many times now she'd seen this mask on her husband in battle. Many times. Countless times. She smiled a little to herself at the memory of receiving the masks from Voldemort. The Dark Lord had put the designs on the metal himself, stamping the personality of each Death Eater into the disguises. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been gifted their masks at Christmastime when they'd been eighteen and fresh to combat. Getting the masks from Voldemort had felt like being given new lives. It had been wondrous.

"Bells?"

She looked up to see Rodolphus walking into the parlour, wearing his hooded black waterproof robe over his tunic and trousers.

"It's absolutely pouring out there. This ought to be good fun. Are you ready for this?" he asked. He pulled on black gloves, and Bellatrix watched as his gold wedding band disappeared beneath leather. Bellatrix silently held up his mask from where she sat. Rodolphus took the mask, dragging his gloved fingers over the edge. He set the mask back down and whispered, "Come here, Bells."

Bellatrix rose and walked over to him, and he took her face in his hands. She shut her eyes, feeling the leather of his gloves on her cheeks. Then she felt his lips on hers, and she huffed a breath. He deepened the kiss into something quite meaningful, pushing his tongue between her lips. Bellatrix began to ardently kiss him back, her hands convulsing a little on his chest as she hummed into his mouth. Rodolphus' gloved hands migrated to her waist and the small of her back, and Bellatrix moved closer. She tasted spearmint on him, craving more. She backed up a little, stumbling a bit, until her back hit a wall.

Suddenly Rodolphus had pinned her, putting his hands on her shoulders gently, and he'd begun grinding against her. His mouth delved down onto Bellatrix's neck, his hand pawing at her breast, and Bellatrix moaned softly. She tipped her head back, fluttering her eyes and whispering his name. This was escalating quickly, and she knew they had to leave. Finally she pulled at his hair and whimpered, saying regretfully,

"Dolph, it's time. It's time."

She pulled his face from his neck and kissed his mouth again, greedily absorbing as much of him as she could. Rodolphus finally broke free of their kiss and took a few steps back, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he reached for his mask on the table.

"Blimey. So I'm to go fight a battle with a bloody erection," he laughed, and Bellatrix smirked. She stepped away from the wall, huffing and going for her own mask. She watched Rodolphus put on his mask, and she pulled her own mask onto her face and felt it seal its way on with its magic. She pulled her waterproof hood over the curls she'd yanked into twin braids. Rodolphus and Bellatrix each pulled out their wands, and Rodolphus reached for Bellatrix's left hand. She was often grateful that he was left-handed; it allowed them to hold onto one another whilst holding their wands. They grasped onto one another, ready to Disapparate.

"Here we go, Bells," Rodolphus said, squeezing at her hand. "Into the rain. Love you always."

He Disapparated, taking Bellatrix with him.

* * *

It was thudding rain, buckets of water descending from the heavens and dumping onto the surroundings of the Chudley Cannons' stadium. Thunder rumbled in the distance like the beating of war drums. Lightning flashed every once in a while, the violent illumination of the scene. Sheets of rain cast screens upon what was transpiring, reducing visibility so catastrophically that people were crashing into one another. The mud ensuing from the storm was thick and so slippery that the fleeing masses were falling victim to it and landing face-first in the muck.

Fires had been set on the billowing canvas trappings around the seating area and the arena. People were shrieking and running in every direction, Disapparating in random spots. Masked Death Eaters were striking down fleeing spectators with assorted spells. One Death Eater hit an aged wizard with a Cruciatus Curse. The man wriggled on the ground, shrieking in pain, as a scarlet web of light encircled him. Another Death Eater had sliced off the arm of a witch, whose husband was kneeling beside her and desperately attempting the staunch the bleeding.

A witch clutching a bundled infant in one arm and the holding the hand of a small child came running past Bellatrix, terror in her pale eyes. For a brief second, Bellatrix considered striking the trio. But she decided they were weak prey. There were better targets. She let the witch pass her by and aimed her wand at a sturdy, twenty-something wizard who was staggering through the mud. He looked like he'd had entirely too much to drink, likely having partied before the match and consumed firewhisky during it. He was having trouble running away from the chaos in his drunken state, a fact which amused Bellatrix immensely. She giggled and Immobilised the wizard with a quickly murmured spell. He froze where he stood, and Bellatrix skipped over toward him.

"What have we here?" she taunted him. "A drunkard, have we?"

The wizard stared straight ahead, immobilised mid-stride, and Bellatrix poked his ginger beard.

"Drunk, drunk, drunk," she teased. "Will he still feel the pain through the drink?"

There was an explosion behind her, and a burst of screaming. Bellatrix laughed and said,

"Best we hurry up, eh? Let's go, then." She backed up a few steps and held her wand out toward the wizard. "How will Mister Drunk feel the pain? Let's find out, shall we?  _CRUCIO!_ "

Red light burst forth from her wand and snarled around her victim. He collapsed to the ground, the Cruciatus cutting through the Freezing Charm. The wizard writhed on the ground and clutched at the muddy grass, soaked through with rain and now covered in mud as he squirmed. He clawed and screamed, and then suddenly he began to repeat a single word over and over again.

_Mummy. Mummy. Mummy._

Bellatrix cackled with glee. She kicked at the wizard, holding the Cruciatus Curse, and laughed mercilessly,

"You want your mother? Is she here? Did Mummy come to watch Quidditch with you?"

The wizard arched his back and let out an ear-piercing shriek of agonised pain. Bellatrix wondered absently what Rodolphus had gotten himself up to. She was getting bored and was about to break the Curse. This wizard had had enough; he'd be mentally scarred from this.

" _Flipendo!"_

Suddenly Bellatrix was thrown backward by a screamed Knockback Jinx, forcing her to break her Cruciatus Curse. She coughed as the wind was knocked out of her. She'd hit her back hard against the wet grass. Bellatrix struggled to get to her feet, and when she stood, she found herself staring at a very angry-looking witch. Bellatrix's mouth fell open as recognition washed over her along with the pouring rain. She knew this witch. She was staring at a tall, thin blonde named Isla Asher, a Gryffindor who had been a year above Bellatrix in school. Isla was an Auror, Bellatrix knew; they'd seen one another in battle before. Isla and Bellatrix despised one another and had since the day of the Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts. Isla was wearing a Chudley Cannons jumper; she'd come to the match as a spectator.

Isla Asher aimed her wand at Bellatrix and opened her mouth to incant another spell, and then several things happened at once, almost in slow motion.

First, the dark shadow of a wizard with his wand outstretched moved behind Isla. As that happened, Bellatrix determined that this qualified as a defensive occasion, and she set her mind to eradicating Isla Asher before the Auror could cast another spell. Bellatrix lifted her wand, jabbed it toward Isla, and screamed with all her might through the grate in her mask,

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Isla Asher somehow managed to make a motion halfway between crouching and leaping. She dodged Bellatrix's Killing Curse and spun into a black whorl, Disapparating from the spot. The Killing Curse socked into the dark figure behind Isla. That hooded figure slumped down in death, their wand dropping from their gloved hand. Suddenly, Bellatrix realised that the dark, hooded figure facing away from her was a Death Eater. She immediately realised that she has accidentally killed one of Voldemort's servants, and the first thought that went through her mind was that Lord Voldemort was going to execute her for what she had done.

She briefly considered Disapparating without finding out who she'd killed and pretending none of this had happened, but then a coil of unease began to tighten in her lower stomach. She took a few steps toward the dark, crumpled figure and licked her dry bottom lip as rain pattered on the metal of her mask. Her breath huffed loudly inside the mask, and her boots squelched in the mud as she approached the figure she'd accidentally killed. Who was it? A terrible feeling of dread began to wash over Bellatrix. She tightened her grip on her wand and stepped up to the figure where it lay on a patch of wet grass, and she carefully used her boot to rotate the dead wizard onto his back.

Then she saw the design on the Death Eater's mask. Black-on-silver. Rodolphus.

Bellatrix's knees gave out, and she fell to the ground. Everything went cold and silent, except for the loud ringing in her scorching ears. The screams around her faded away and the fires seemed to have been snuffed out. She had gone entirely numb. She could feel absolutely nothing. She began to shake so violently that she dropped her wand. And then, at long last, gulping air into her lungs with a terrible burn, Bellatrix screamed. She screamed with all of her might, a keening shriek of absolute terror that cut through the chaos around her.

She ripped Rodolphus' mask off of his face and yanked him up into her lap, cradling him in her arms. She moaned desperately and shook her head, staring at the way Rodolphus' eyes were staring blankly into the falling rain. Bellatrix brushed her thumb under Rodolphus' eye and begged him in a whine,

"Wake up, Dolph. Please. Please,  _please._ "

"What are you  _doing?_  What's happened?" hissed a voice. Bellatrix looked up to see another masked figure dashing over to where she and Rodolphus were on the grass. She recognised this mask, too, and the stray blond wisps of hair that have escaped around it. This was Lucius Malfoy, her brother-in-law. Lucius knelt down and shoved Rodolphus' mask almost roughly back onto his dead face.

"Who killed him?" Lucius barked. Bellatrix's breath shook inside her own mask.

"I did. I did. It was an accident; I was aiming for an Auror. Oh, please wake up, Dolph.  _Please._ "

"Bellatrix. We need to get you and him back to headquarters immediately. The Dark Lord must know what's happened."

"He'll kill me for this," Bellatrix whispered. Lucius shook his head and insisted,

"It was an accident. It was a stray -"

" _Please!_  Rodolphus! Wake  _up!_  Just speak to me, my love." Bellatrix desperately shook at Rodolphus' shoulder. "Please. My beloved husband… speak to me. Please speak to me."

Lucius picked up Rodolphus' and Bellatrix's wands, which were on the ground. He shoved Bellatrix's wand into her right hand, tucked Rodolphus' into his robes, and muttered,

"We need to go. Now."

He grabbed onto Rodolphus' stiff hand and clasped hold of Bellatrix's tiny wrist. He Disapparated at once from the chaotic scene where Death Eaters were still fighting. Bellatrix gasped as they were whipped through the whirling, pinching black void, away from the rain and mud and fires and screaming.

They came to outside of Malfoy Manor, and it was only drizzling lightly in Wiltshire. Rodolphus' body fell limply onto the grass, and Bellatrix immediately crashed onto her knees again to take hold of him. She began to cradle and rock Rodolphus as though he were an infant. Tears were streaming down her cheeks beneath the cold metal of her mask, but she wouldn't have been bothered to wipe them away, anyway. Lucius stood in silence for a long moment, as though he was unsure of what to do with the keening Bellatrix and the dead Rodolphus. Bellatrix peeled off Rodolphus' mask and her own and set them aside. She needed to see his face right now. She needed to kiss him. She bent down and touched her lips to his, brushing her mouth onto Rodolphus' and whispering to him in a shaking voice,

"Wake up, Dolph. Please wake up. Please. I'm so, so sorry, Dolph. I didn't mean it. I was aiming for that wretch Isla Asher. She was casting spells at me; it was defensive. I was trying to kill our enemy. I'd never hurt you. I would never, ever hurt you."

"What the blazes happened?"

Bellatrix raised her eyes to see Lord Voldemort storming through the gate of Malfoy Manor's garden. Had he seen this scene unfolding from his office window and come outside? Lucius pulled off his mask and quietly explained,

"From what I understand, My Lord, Bellatrix was fighting an Auror who was at the match. She aimed a Killing Curse that missed, and it hit Rodolphus."

Bellatrix wailed and buried her face into Rodolphus' hair. She breathed in the scent of him, heady and masculine. Suddenly all she could think of was the time they'd spent together being in love, and a horrid thought came over her. She couldn't stay here whilst he was gone. She'd done an awful thing, and she deserved punishment. She deserved to pay the ultimate price for this mistake. Bellatrix grasped her wand, aimed it at her throat, shut her eyes, and began to whisper,

" _Avad-_ "

"NO!  _Expelliarmus!"_

Voldemort quickly Disarmed her, putting a swift stop to her attempt at executing herself, and her wand spiraled from her hand to his. He tucked her wand away and gave her a dangerous look, shaking his head.

"Don't you dare."

Bellatrix clasped her hands and insisted,

"Please, Master. If I have killed my own husband, no matter how accidentally, I do not deserve to live. I beg you, put me down like the animal I am. Execute me. Please."

Voldemort's face was stony. He stared down at Bellatrix and said firmly,

"No matter what mistakes you have made, Bellatrix, you have far too much work left to do for me. I need you alive. Say your farewells to Rodolphus. Lucius will take his body inside. You should go find Narcissa and get some Draught of Peace. These next days will be trying for you."

Bellatrix desperately tried to obey her master. She tried to set Rodolphus down on the damp earth, but she couldn't. She couldn't let go. She burrowed her face into his hair and keened again, fresh tears coming. She squeezed at Rodolphus' hair and remembered the way, just a scant while earlier today, he'd had her pinned against a wall in their house whilst they kissed. She remembered waking beside him this morning, telling him she loved him.

"I promised you forever, and instead I murdered you," Bellatrix whispered. "What sort of a wife was I, Dolph? You loved me, and in return, I killed you. It was a mistake. I didn't mean… that death was not meant for you. You and I were meant to grow old, to have children together, and I've spoiled all of it, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I…"

She broke down then, heaving with sobs, holding her husband and crying against his hair. She heard Lucius and Voldemort above her, speaking in low voices.

"She may need some assistance getting inside, My Lord," Lucius murmured, and Voldemort replied crisply,

"Yes.  _Imperio._ "

Bellatrix suddenly felt an overwhelming compulsion to walk away from Rodolphus, to let him go and to walk into the manor. When she pulled him back from her body, it was as though her hands were moving of their own accord. When she spoke, the words seemed to come on their own.

"Goodbye, Dolph. I love you."

She left him on the grass and slowly stood, and she looked at Lucius and said numbly,

"Be careful with him."

Lucius nodded, seeming quite troubled. He pinched his lips and stared down at his fallen comrade on the ground.

"Bellatrix, come with me," said Voldemort, and Bellatrix obediently followed him. She'd been Imperiused, she thought distantly. But there was nothing to do about that. She just walked with Voldemort in silence through the gardens and up the steps of the manor. He paused outside the great front doors, and Bellatrix stopped beside him, feeling as though she had no other choice.

"You are a widow now, no matter the circumstances," Voldemort said very tightly. "And both you and your late husband have been exceedingly loyal servants of mine for years. So please allow me to be the first to extend my most sincere condolences."

Bellatrix was numb. "Thank you, Master."

He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. He blinked and looked at her as if he found her to be equal parts troubling and fascinating.

"It wasn't your fault," he said.

Bellatrix demurred. "With all due respect, I think it was."

He shook his head. "It was an accident. You were fighting. It was a terrible accident."

Bellatrix wet her bottom lip with her tongue and choked out, "I killed my husband."

Voldemort sighed and was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be studying her face, and then at last he said quietly, "I am sorry, Bella."

He pushed open the door, and Bellatrix felt the urge to follow him inside. They walked in silence upstairs and down a corridor, up a winding flight of stairs until they reached an elegant parlour with dark paneling and burgundy decoration. Inside was Narcissa Malfoy, anxiously pacing, obviously awaiting news of the attack at the Quidditch pitch. She saw her sister and scowled, rushing over.

"My Lord," she gasped, "What's happened to her?"

Voldemort put his hand on Bellatrix's shoulder blade and said almost sternly to her,

"Wait in here for a moment, Bellatrix. Narcissa, come in the corridor and speak with me. Your sister has been involved in a terrible accident. She is going to require a great deal of assistance."

**Author's Note: Oh, noooo. Poor Rodolphus. And this version of him was darn near likeable, too. :( But we all know this is a Bellamort story, and the slow burn has to get** _ **there**_   **somehow. So what happens to Bellatrix now that she's accidentally killed her husband?**

**I would really love to know your thoughts on this story! I value your feedback more than I can say. Thanks in advance for each and every review.**


	3. Funeral

There wasn't enough Draught of Peace in all the world to begin soothing Bellatrix's violent guilt and grief. Still, she guzzled the stuff down like water.

Forty-eight hours after she'd accidentally killed Rodolphus, Bellatrix sat in a bath gone lukewarm, staring at the way water slowly dripped from the tap. Narcissa was seated on a stool beside the bath, her hands clutched together anxiously on her knees.

"Can you try using the sponge to wash your arms now?" Narcissa asked gently, and Bellatrix blinked, drowsy from the endless doses of calming potion. She kept staring at the dripping tap as she replied in a monotone,

"I could just Scour myself with magic."

"The Healer said that things like baths would help calm you," Narcissa pointed out. Bellatrix frowned a little.

"Am I not calm?"

"You seem as though you are still in shock," Narcissa worried. Bellatrix blinked slowly again and finally reached for the dark yellow sponge that was hovering in the bath water. She rubbed the bar of lavender soap against the sponge to suds it, and then she soaped up her arms and shoulders. She rinsed the sponge and cleaned the suds off herself, and Narcissa sighed with relief,

"Oh, well done."

"Have you spoken with Rodolphus' family?" Bellatrix asked quietly, and Narcissa hesitated. Bellatrix finally turned to look at her and cocked up an eyebrow. Narcissa huffed a breath.

"I have not. I've been here with you. But Lucius went to Castle Lestrange this morning," she said. "Rabastan is devastated, of course, but he understands that it was an accident."

"Well." Bellatrix raised her knees up out of the water, felt the chill of the air, and put them back in, reaching for the tap of hot water to warm up the bath. She filled the tub with some more heated water, then shut off the tap and turned to her sister. "Rabastan is a Death Eater, too. He comprehends the chaotic nature of battle."

Narcissa nodded. She hesitated again and then said, "You may want to avoid Rudy and Natalia at the funeral, to the best of your ability, Bella."

Bellatrix scoffed. "How am I meant to avoid my in-laws at my husband's funeral?"

Rudy Lestrange was an old school friend of Lord Voldemort's, having been part of Tom Riddle's gang at Hogwarts. Now he was a financial donor to the cause, funding Death Eater stipends and material needs. Bellatrix distantly wondered whether ties between Voldemort and Rudy would be strained or frayed over what had happened to Rodolphus. But her worries were quickly assuaged by the mental press of the Draught of Peace. Her thoughts turned instead to her mother-in-law, Natalia Lestrange, a Slavic witch with a cold demeanour. Bellatrix and Natalia had never gotten on well. Now, Bellatrix thought, the two would surely be enemies. Somehow, that thought didn't bother her right this moment.

"They're cross, then," Bellatrix mumbled. "Rudy and Natalia. They're angry."

Narcissa sucked in breath. "That's… one way to put it. They don't understand that their son was a soldier taken out by friendly fire. It's probably best if you just avoid them."

"Cissy," Bellatrix hummed, poking at the bath water and watching the ensuing ripples work their way out from her finger, "Would it be possible for me to stay for a while here at Malfoy Manor?"

She turned her face to her little sister, whose beautiful features had softened immensely. Bellatrix explained,

"It would be entirely too painful, sleeping in the bed where Dolph and I were together night after night. Eating breakfast at the table where we got ready for our days. It would just be too much right now."

"Bella." Narcissa reached for her elder sister's fingers and clutched them tightly. She nodded vigorously and insisted, "This suite is yours for the rest of your life if that's what you need. You are welcome here indefinitely. Of course you may stay."

"Thank you." Bellatrix reached for the drain in the bottom of the bath and unscrewed it, pulling it out of the tub and setting it aside as water began to pull downward. Bellatrix stood as Narcissa went out into the bedroom. She toweled off, smelling lavender on herself, and when Narcissa came back in with fresh knickers and a clean nightgown, Bellatrix gratefully pulled them on. Suddenly she contemplated that she would probably never sleep again without having nightmares, without seeing Rodolphus' dead eyes staring blankly through the rain. She was shaking now, she knew, and Narcissa was guiding her out to the bedroom.

"You need to rest," Narcissa murmured, peeling back the white down comforter on the bed Bellatrix had been given. Bellatrix climbed up into the bed, trembling like a leaf as she whispered,

"I saw him walk backwards with his wand out. He was behind her. I didn't know it was him. She dodged the Killing Curse and it smacked into him; I didn't know it was him."

"You need to sleep, Bellatrix," Narcissa said more insistently. She pulled a small bottle out of the pocket of her robe and uncorked it. Sleeping Draught. Bellatrix covered Narcissa's hand and asked anxiously, her worry pushing through the Draught of Peace,

"Does everyone despise me now?"

"No, Bella; I think everyone feels very sorry for you," Narcissa said regretfully. Bellatrix's eyes welled and she shook her head.

"That's almost worse, somehow. I feel as though I deserve hate far more than I deserve pity."

"You deserve sleep." Narcissa brushed Bellatrix's hand away and filled the dropper inside the lid of the Sleeping Draught. She brought it to Bellatrix's lips, and the vaguely bitter flavour filled her mouth as she was dosed. Bellatrix immediately began to feel the effects of the sedation. As she slipped quickly into peaceful oblivion, she thought that Narcissa would make a wonderful mother when at last a baby came to her. She was so very good at taking care of people.

The last thing she saw in her mind before she was lost to sleep was the dream she'd had the night before she'd accidentally killed Rodolphus. They'd been dancing at a ball, and he'd been smiling sadly down at her. Then he'd leaned down and said, " _I have to leave, Bells._ "

Bellatrix's eyes fell shut, and everything went black and silent and she slipped deeply into the realm of sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Bellatrix stood staring out a window in the library, observing the gardens below. She remembered being brought here by Lucius, Rodolphus' body in tow.

They would bury Rodolphus' body today.

Bellatrix had been dressed in a bustled, long-sleeved, high-necked gown of black raw silk and velvet. Narcissa had gone to Bellatrix's house to fetch the gown, which was by far the most sombre thing Bellatrix owned. Narcissa had pulled Bellatrix's wild mane of curls into a low chignon at the nape of her neck, and Bellatrix had donned a veil of black lace that fell elegantly down her back. She looked every inch the deserted, bereft widow, but she felt like a murderer.

Bellatrix had been dosed very heavily with freshly-brewed Draught of Peace, and Narcissa had been tasked with keeping Bellatrix sedated throughout the day. Bellatrix was determined not to get into a fight with Natalia Lestrange about how Rodolphus had died. She wasn't even certain how she would defend herself against her mother-in-law. She'd either shove the witch onto the floor or dissolve into a puddle of guilty tears. In any case, interaction wouldn't go well.

Cygnus Black III and Druella Black would also be at the funeral. They were, apparently, devastated for their daughter. Cygnus, like Rudy, had long been associated with Voldemort and served him outside of a combat role. Cygnus and Rudy were old friends, though Bellatrix had to wonder how that particular friendship would be affected by one of their children accidentally murdering the other's child. She shut her eyes where she stood at the window.

"Dolph," she whispered.

The funeral was taking place at Castle Lestrange in Yorkshire. There would be a brief ceremony with readings about courage and love and death. Rabastan Lestrange would then eulogise his brother, making remarks about Rodolphus' life. Rodolphus would then be buried in the castle's ancient cemetery, and Bellatrix would stand with Rabastan, Rudy, and Natalia to receive the well-wishes and condolences of mourners.

And that would be that.

There was a knock on the library door. Bellatrix didn't turn round. She just called out in a numbed voice.

"Come in."

She heard the door creak open, heard steps muffled by the expensive rug, and then Lord Voldemort appeared beside her wearing fine black velvet robes. Bellatrix snapped to rights and curtsied deeply to him, murmuring,

"Master."

"You are stronger than you think," Voldemort said before Bellatrix had risen from her curtsy. She gave him a curious look, and he just nodded. "You are more powerful than you realise, and I have all the confidence in the world in you, Bellatrix."

She blinked quickly in disbelief and asked plainly, "Did I not lose your confidence when I murdered Rodolphus?"

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and shook his head. "You have maintained my confidence through years of service as my fiercest, most fearless, most skilled and terrifying warrior. You have earned my trust through years spent as my most devoted servant. I will not lose you over this; I simply refuse."

Bellatrix's eyes seared like fire, and she leaned heavily onto the windowsill. Voldemort looked a little concerned then and snapped,

"Have you been dosed sufficiently with Draught of Peace?"

She choked an odd sound out and told him, "If I'd had any more Draught of Peace, sir, I could cure the world of all its wars."

Voldemort laughed a little under his breath, a low rumble. There was silence then, for a strangle comfortable and long moment. He dragged his thumb over his lip and mumbled at last,

"Bella, you know, I am actually quite sorry."

She couldn't answer for a moment. Finally, with vision blurred by unshed tears, Bellatrix whispered, "So am I."

There was more silence then, until Bellatrix felt compelled to ask her master,

"Is there any chance that you… might we be seeing you at his funeral today, My Lord?"

Voldemort's uneven brows furrowed. "Of course I will be there. Rodolphus was a loyal and effective Death Eater. He served me proudly and honourably. How could I possibly be anywhere else today?"

Bellatrix nodded and said almost inaudibly, "Thank you, Master."

Narcissa came into the library then, giving a deep obeisance to Lord Voldemort, and she said nervously,

"Bella, dear, it's time to go."

* * *

Castle Lestrange was an echoing, lonely place, and Bellatrix had never cared for it. It felt even more lifeless with Rodolphus' passing. He'd grown up here, and the shadows of his childhood seemed to scream at Bellatrix as she stood solemnly in the castle's Great Hall.

Rabastan Lestrange came stalking slowly up to Bellatrix and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a familiar embrace. They'd always been close, the two of them. Rabastan was a playboy who had always refused to marry, and he and Bellatrix had maintained a close friendship through the years. Now Bellatrix buried her face into Rabastan's shoulder and whispered,

"I'm so, so sorry."

"No. It isn't your fault," he insisted. Bellatrix clutched at the sleeves of Rabastan's robes and insisted,

"I missed. I was careless. I hit him instead of our enemy. I killed him. He's dead because of me. I am so sorry. I am so… this is all… I feel so…"

"Bellatrix." Rabastan pulled back from her and shook his head. "It was an accidental death in the midst of combat; it could have been Avery or Malfoy or anybody else. Me. It could have been me. It just happened to be him. It was a consequence of battle. You loved him more than life itself. Nobody wishes more than you that he was alive today, Bellatrix."

She sighed and shut her eyes. "Do you hate me?"

"You will always be my sister," Rabastan said, brushing her veil back over her shoulder, "and I shall never hate you."

For the next twenty minutes of preparations, Rudy and Natalia Lestrange pretended that their daughter-in-law simply did not exist. They stood near the Great Hall's window, murmuring quietly to one another, ignoring Bellatrix's presence entirely. That was for the best, Bellatrix thought. Rather fortunately, mourners began to arrive, slowly filling the seats in the Great Hall. Bellatrix took her seat in the front row and watched over her shoulder as her parents came in. They embraced her and whispered to her that they loved her and were sorry. At one point, Narcissa came over with another drop of Draught of Peace. Finally, all the seats were filled with about a hundred Death Eaters and Pureblood family and friends. The last one to arrive, or at least the last one to walk in the room, was the Dark Lord himself. Everyone rose respectfully, bowing and curtsying. Voldemort nodded and walked up the centre aisle between the seats, taking a place of honour among the close family. He wound up sitting right beside Bellatrix, and as he sat, he whispered,

"You look steady and sure."

"I'm all right, Master," Bellatrix assured him. Something told her, though, that if she hadn't been deeply drugged, she would be very much not all right. She would probably be a dissolved, shaking mess if it weren't for all the Draught of Peace, and she couldn't take it forever. Suddenly she found herself wondering what would become of her when they stopped drugging her.

"Bellatrix," said Voldemort from beside her, and when she looked at him, he noted softly, "You are trembling rather ferociously now."

"Sorry." She tried to gather herself again. Mercifully, she was distracted for a while at that point, because Natalia Lestrange went to the front of the Hall and began reading from a thick old book, passages about valiant fighting in combat, the love a wizard bears his family, and the pain and healing that comes from death. It was all just noise, but Natalia somehow made it through the long readings without crying, and Bellatrix had no idea how. Then she realised her mother-in-law had probably been drugged into peace, too.

Next up was Rabastan Lestrange, who spoke for a while about the childhood he and Rodolphus had shared here at Castle Lestrange. He shared an anecdote about a time Rabastan had gone through thin ice on the pond behind the castle and Rodolphus had dragged him out and fetched the House-Elf to quickly save Rabastan's life. He talked about the time Rodolphus got in trouble for buying huge quantities of sweets from Honeydukes in third year and selling them at an enormous markup to first- and second-year students at Hogwarts. Somehow, he'd still become a Prefect. Everyone laughed a little at that story. Then Rabastan got more serious and began speaking of Rodolphus' demise.

"What happened to my brother was a terrible accident, but Rodolphus would look at the situation and see that his wife was in the process of eliminating the enemy when he was killed," Rabastan said. "Bellatrix's grief as a widow is true and valid and deep, just as much as if that Auror had killed Rodolphus herself."

He made eye contact with Bellatrix then, and beside her, Voldemort nodded his approval of what Rabastan was saying. Bellatrix gulped. Rabastan continued,

"I miss my brother and I always shall. Today I feel sorrow for him, and for my dear sister-in-law, whose loss is unfathomable. My parents and I mourn alongside Bellatrix. Rodolphus, we shall love you forever."

After a dragging dirge of a song about loss and eternity, everyone proceeded in a slowly-moving crowd outside, where Rodolphus' coffin was waiting beside a freshly dug grave. Bellatrix studied his elegant headstone, which read, " _Rodolphus Lestrange: Killed in Battle 15 October 1978._ "

Bellatrix felt dizzy as she realised this was the last time she would be so near to Rodolphus' physical form, the body she'd touched and kissed and caressed so often. She suddenly felt panic rush through her veins, and she dashed over to Narcissa.

"Please. I need some Draught of Peace."

Narcissa snatched the bottle of the stuff from inside her robes and yanked out the lid. She put some inside Bellatrix's mouth, and calm came over Bellatrix's shaking body. She nodded her thanks and made her way back over to the graveside, past the people who were curiously studying her. What were they thinking of her, Bellatrix wondered?  _Murderer. Poor thing. Idiot._   _Widow._ Somehow, right now, she didn't care.

She did her duty Levitating Rodolphus' coffin steadily into his grave and covered it with damp, black soil. She whispered goodbye to him and then turned round, raising her wand into the air and murmuring, " _Lumos._ "

The dozens of others around her all lifted their wands aloft, illuminating them to honour the fallen Rodolphus. People stood in silence for a while, and then people began to lower their wands and put out the lights.

"Goodbye, my beloved," Bellatrix whispered over her shoulder to Rodolphus' grave. "I love you always."

She had to stand in a line then and receive one mourner after another. It was uncomfortable, standing so close to Rodolphus' grave and shaking hands and nodding and just repeating  _thank you, thank you, thank you_  over and again. She quickly became numb to the sentiments and sorrow. Some people obviously didn't know what to say to her. Why would they? She was the accidental killer of her own husband. She was the reason the man they were mourning was dead.

"I'm so sorry that he… that you…" stammered Mrs Avery, going red-cheeked.

"I can't believe it happened," drawled her grandfather Pollux Black helplessly. That wasn't as bad as her grandmother Irma Black, who mused,

"I can't believe you did that."

Bellatrix somehow made it through the endless line of people until the very last mourner made his way up - Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord murmured to Rabastan and the Lestranges how very sorry he was for the loss of their brother and son, how sorry he was to lose such an able and loyal servant and soldier, and what an immeasurable loss to the wizarding world at large the death of Rodolphus Lestrange was. He stressed rather pointedly to Natalia Lestrange what an awful accident Rodolphus' death had been, and he even said that it could have happened to anyone, that wars took their victims most cruelly. Then he walked up to Bellatrix and nodded crisply to her.

"You've held up well, but I fear that not even Draught of Peace can bolster you for much longer. You need to go back to Malfoy Manor now."

She blinked and bowed her head. "Yes, Master."

"I do not trust you to Apparate when you are so drugged," he said plainly. "I shall take you. Come with me."

She looked back up at him and studied his scarred, warped face. She felt a strange tug toward him, a magnetic sort of pull, and she wondered whether he'd Imperiused her again. She nodded.

"Yes, My Lord."

She glanced toward Rodolphus' grave, promising herself to come visit him on his birthday. Voldemort held out his arm, and Bellatrix threaded her hand through it. It felt strange, standing so very near her lord and master. When he Disapparated, pulling her through the cold black whirl, Bellatrix shut her eyes. They came to outside the gate of Malfoy Manor, and it took everything Bellatrix had to stumble away from him, to separate herself from his arm and his robes, which smelled of leather and books.

She stared at him, at his scarred face, and he looked a little self-conscious all of a sudden, as though he could feel her gaze locked on his features. Bellatrix's cheeks went hot with embarrassment, but she managed to whisper,

"Thank you, My Lord."

He nodded once. "Get some rest."

He turned then and stalked off toward the manor, his strides long and purposeful as his velvet robes moved around him.

**Author's Note: So, Rodolphus is truly dead and gone. And we got a twinkling little preview of Bellamort for a split second there at the end (blink and you'd miss it). Obviously we have a legit slow burn on our hands. How will Bellatrix handle life without her husband, and how will Voldemort try to get his most useful, needed soldier back in service?**

**I am so grateful for people reading this story, and I absolutely love hearing from readers. Please do take a moment and let me know your thoughts!**


	4. Gloves

Bellatrix lay on her side, staring at the window, curled up in a ball beneath the down comforter. She was daydreaming about Rodolphus - again. She thought about a time when they'd gone to Diagon Alley together and had gone to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It had been monstrously hot outside, and Rodolphus had suggested ice cream to take the edge off. He'd ordered chocolate fudge ice cream in a cone and had eaten it down in about four bites. Bellatrix had made fun of him, teasing him that he'd get a stomachache. Rodolphus had teased her straight back. She was eating her butter pecan ice cream too slowly, he'd said, and it would melt. He'd picked up her spoon and had begun to feed her bites. Soon enough, they'd both been giggling like mad as he fed her right there in the street in front of everybody. It had felt like flirting again, like they'd barely known one another yet.

"Bellatrix, you  _must_  get out of bed!"

Narcissa came storming into the bedroom, and Bellatrix just ignored her, sighing and staring resolutely at the windowpane. Narcissa came on clacking heels across the bedroom and plopped herself down onto the edge of Bellatrix's bed, tugging at the plush down comforter. Bellatrix yanked it back up, and Narcissa huffed.

"I understand that you are grieving," Narcissa said, "but it's been three weeks now. Three weeks of your meals taken alone here in your suite. Three weeks of baths that last until the water goes cold. Hours and hours silently staring out this window whilst you lie under the blankets. Sobbing at all hours for weeks on end. Bella…"

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered, and Narcissa cleared her throat before saying carefully,

"The Dark Lord is growing impatient, Bellatrix, and it is more than a little dangerous to displease him."

Bellatrix finally flicked her eyes to her little sister. "He's angry with me?"

"He's impatient," Narcissa repeated. "You have now missed two important meetings. The first, debriefing the Quidditch attack, he understood your absence from because it was the day after Rodolphus' funeral. But the one that happened yesterday? He told me privately afterward, Bella, that he'd expected you to come. He wanted you downstairs at that meeting, and instead you were up here lying in bed. He has given you time…"

Bellatrix felt a strike of panic go through her core. She felt the panic keenly these days; she wasn't taking Draught of Peace anymore. Was Lord Voldemort going to punish her for her absence from the meeting? Had she fallen out of favour? Bellatrix slowly sat up, feeling dizzy, and asked Narcissa,

"What… erm… what day is it?"

Narcissa looked concerned. "It's the tenth of November."

Bellatrix shut her eyes, realising just how much time she'd lost to lethargy and grief and guilt and shame, to dreams and crying, to staring and fretting. It had been more than three weeks since Rodolphus was killed by the stray Killing Curse, but it felt like no time at all had passed. She stared at the window again and murmured,

"Perhaps I shall try to walk in the gardens today. I'm certain it's cold, but I find I do not much care."

"I think that is a most excellent idea," Narcissa said almost sternly. She rose from the bed and stalked purposefully over to Bellatrix's wardrobe, pulling out a heavy dress of black wool and velvet. Bellatrix spent the next fifteen minutes getting dressed, cleaning her teeth, and combing her wild curls. She felt like she was moving through honey, like she couldn't convince her muscles to go quickly enough. She was still dragging badly. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and thought her face looked thin. She'd lost some weight, she thought. She'd only been nibbling at her food. Narcissa appeared in the bathroom doorway, and Bellatrix set down her comb as she said,

"I am very sorry, Cissy, for falling apart like this."

"Bella." Narcissa stepped into the bathroom and shook her head, but Bellatrix continued tearfully,

"I have never, in the entirety of my existence, felt such pain as this. I have never felt so badly about anything. I feel as though entire organs have been ripped from my body, like limbs have been sawed off. And I feel as though I shall never be whole again. But I know there must be a way forward, and I must find it. Somehow."

"You will find it, Bellatrix," Narcissa insisted firmly, putting her hands on Bellatrix's bony shoulders. "Shall I walk with you in the gardens?"

Bellatrix peeled Narcissa's hands off her shoulders and shook her head. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to be alone right now."

Narcissa frowned. "But you've been alone for three weeks."

Bellatrix huffed a sigh. "Then I should like to continue being alone."

* * *

Bellatrix found that it was much colder than she'd expected in the gardens. The rose bushes and gardenias and all the other flowers were as dead as Rodolphus. But, no, Bellatrix thought. They were perennials. They'd gone dormant and would rise again in the spring. Rodolphus was really gone. He was gone forever. And it was her fault.

Bellatrix ambled rather aimlessly through a wending path of hedges until she reached an ornately designed wrought-iron bench. She sat and stared at a thorny, bare rosebush. She started thinking, unsurprisingly, about Rodolphus again. There had been one time when they'd been naked in bed together. It had been early - grey dawn. Rodolphus had awakened Bellatrix with kisses on her bare chest and arms. She'd fluttered her eyes open and smiled and whispered,  _Well, hullo, Dolph._  She'd held his messy honey-brown hair and giggled as he'd peeled back the blankets and descended beneath them.

"My, my. It certainly is good to see  _you_  up and about."

Bellatrix flew at once to her feet and whirled around to see Lord Voldemort walking toward her through the path between the hedges. He was wearing a heavy winter cape with an intimidating, angry claw-like silver clasp upon it. He was hooded and looked a bit mysterious today in a way that made Bellatrix's stomach quiver with fear and something else she couldn't quite identify. She curtsied deeply to him, bowing her head. He gestured for her to sit on the bench, which she did at once. He came to sit beside her, and anxiety flushed through Bellatrix's veins. Was he here to punish her for her absence from the meeting? She decided to speak.

"Master." Her voice shook badly, exacerbated by the cold. "Narcissa told me that you were angry with me for not attending yesterday's meeting, and I should like to apologise about that. I have been wallowing in my grief and my guilt, and as a result, I have not been of service to you. I swore on the day you Marked me that I would serve you properly in perpetuity, and these last several weeks, I have been derelict of duty. For that, I am very sorry indeed."

Voldemort nodded. "Apology accepted."

There was an oddly comfortable silence for a while. Bellatrix contemplated that silence between her master and herself rarely felt tense or uneasy. There was something simple in the silence. For some reason, it felt very comfortable to simply  _be_  around him. Eventually, Voldemort spoke.

"It's bloody freezing out here."

Bellatrix smiled, thinking that it was the first time she'd done that in weeks. The sensation had become unfamiliar. Her muscles no longer were used to forming the little smirk she made now.

"It is colder than I'd expected it to be, Master. You were clever to put on gloves."

"Are you hands cold?" he asked, and Bellatrix shrugged, brushing off the question. Of course her hands were cold. Her hands felt like they were going to fall off. Voldemort wordlessly leaned over and plucked two trembling, brown leaves off the shaking bare hedge. He placed them in his lap and murmured a few spells Bellatrix didn't recognise. The leaves slowly Transfigured, warping and shifting until they had turned into brown leather gloves. Bellatrix grinned widely, but Voldemort frowned down at the gloves and mused,

"You'd probably prefer black, hmm?  _Negris_." He brushed his wand over the gloves, which shifted to become black. He nonverbally shrank them a little and then handed them over. Bellatrix stared, agape, and finally took the gloves.

"Thank you, Master," she murmured.

Voldemort pursed his lips as she put them on. "You haven't used that wand hand in some time, but I can't afford to have you freezing it off."

Bellatrix nodded and asked, "Will you please tell me what I missed, My Lord? At the meeting?"

Voldemort picked at a bit of lint with his heavy cloak with his gloved hand and said tightly,

"It was a logistics meeting. We needed to pin down plans for your cousin Cecilia's wedding tomorrow."

Bellatrix shut her eyes as realisation washed over her. Her cousin Cecilia Rosier was marrying Bastian Avery. They were both a few months out of Hogwarts and were serving as spies in the Ministry. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had responded to the invitation a few months earlier, promising to attend.

"We needed to establish a firm plan for preventing an ambush by the enemy," said Voldemort. "Setting up a perimeter of defensive and protective spells and wards. Ensuring the loyalty of every guest, particularly given my attendance. Arming the event with Death Eater guards. I also commanded that no Death Eater become drunk at the event, so that everyone is ready to fight should anything happen. We don't anticipate trouble, but you never know. Best to be over-prepared than caught off-guard."

Bellatrix felt very ill all of a sudden. She raised her eyes to Voldemort and waited until he looked at her.

"I'm sure everyone will understand why I don't come," she said.

He scowled at her and shook his head. "Aside from your relation to the bride, Bellatrix, I require your presence at that wedding. If any violence breaks out, I will need your wand. Your attendance, and your service, is not optional."

Bellatrix gulped and nodded. She could sense his anger now. She thought, suddenly, of how she would have spent the night at the wedding with Rodolphus. She would have been wrapped up in his arms all night, dancing. She wouldn't be dancing now. But she dragged her teeth over her lip and said,

"I understand, Master. I will be there."

"Good." He sniffed a bit and stood from the bench, drawing Bellatrix to her feet. He nodded at her and said, "Don't stay out here too long. Those gloves will turn back to leaves in a few hours."

* * *

That evening, Bellatrix walked down the corridor outside the dining room, and she observed a small crowd. Narcissa was laughing softly with her mother-in-law, Adelaide Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy and his son Lucius were walking behind them. Trailing behind was Voldemort, who caught Bellatrix's eye and said with demonstrable surprise,

"Bellatrix."

At the sound of her sister's name, Narcissa gasped softly and turned away from Adelaide Malfoy. Narcissa grinned, and Bellatrix took a few more steps toward the group.

"I wonder if… I was wondering if I might join you for dinner in the dining room instead of eating along in my suite," Bellatrix said self-consciously. Narcissa was so happy that she let out a little laugh, and she said,

"Well, of course that's all right. Lucius, dear, go let Dobby know that we've got one more in the dining room, will you, please? Bella, the Dark Lord is joining us for dinner tonight, as well."

Bellatrix eyed Voldemort with a little confusion, and he explained,

"I typically take my meals in my office, but I was feeling uncharacteristically sociable this evening."

"Oh." Bellatrix nodded, unsure of what else to say. Abraxas Malfoy ushered them all into the dining room then, and he joked to Voldemort,

"I believe we have ourselves a proper dinner party, My Lord."

Bellatrix's hands shook fiercely as she tried to eat her meal. She struggled mightily with the task of spearing her green beans sauteed in fish sauce with cashews. She finally brought one to her mouth and chewed, shutting her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she realised that Voldemort was watching her from the head of the table. He flicked his eyes back down to his own plate in silence, and Bellatrix tingled a little from the idea that he'd been staring at her, even for a moment.

She listened to Adelaide Malfoy and Lucius discussing the fact that Lucius' hair had grown so long. He ought to just cut it a little, Adelaide was saying.

"What do you think, Cissy?" Lucius asked his wife.

"Oh, no. I am  _not_  coming between a wizard and his mother," Narcissa laughed, and Abraxas guffawed.

"Bellatrix."

She looked up as their appetiser plates gave way to the main course, which seemed to be arctic char with mushrooms. She gave her attention to Voldemort, who poked at his fish and asked in a quiet, calm voice,

"How long did those gloves last you?"

Bellatrix smirked just a little. "They were still gloves when I came down here, My Lord."

She took a bite of fish and relished the taste, eating some more.

"Then it would seem Albus Dumbledore taught me something of use, after all," Voldemort mused, and Bellatrix grinned broadly in response. She tried to imagine a young Tom Riddle in Transfiguration lessons.

"Look at her; she's beaming."

Bellatrix's grin vanished as Narcissa teased.

"Oh, I didn't mean to embarrass you," Narcissa fretted. "It is wonderful to see you smile again."

Bellatrix very self-consciously stuffed a few more bites of fish and mushroom into her mouth. She gulped down some white wine as Narcissa cleared her throat and said,

"The Dark Lord told me that you'll be at Cecilia's wedding tomorrow. I only wish we had time to go to Twillfit and Tattings and get some new dress robes to wear. Shopping together would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Oh. Yes. Perhaps sometime soon," Bellatrix nodded. She felt the weight of everyone staring at her, and she took another anxious bite, feeling full. Narcissa began to quietly speak with Lucius about whether or not he was going to wear full tuxedo robes to the wedding. The main course gave way to dessert - berry tart. From beside Bellatrix, Voldemort quietly let out a noise of abject disgust. She froze with her spoon in her hand and studied him. His marled lip curled up in distaste as he stared at the tart. Bellatrix set her spoon down.

"Do you not care much for berry tart, My Lord?"

He looked up at her and shook his head. "I despise berries of all sorts."

"Oh, I'm quite certain they would bring you something to your liking," Bellatrix said, but Voldemort insisted,

"I do not require a dessert."

Bellatrix knit her hands together, feeling tense for some odd reason. Why did she care so much about whether her master liked his food? She scowled deeply as he glared at her, seeming confused by her reaction to his distaste for the dessert.

"Bella?" Narcissa asked worriedly, obviously reading the way her sister had dissolved a little. Bellatrix blurted,

"The Dark Lord does not like berries. You must have Dobby bring him something else at once."

Narcissa nodded slowly. "Oh. Of course I shall -"

"That is not necessary, Narcissa." Voldemort seethed where he sat. "Bellatrix, I told you to leave it alone. I do not require your assistance with my food. I am more than capable of…"

He trailed off, for Bellatrix had fallen apart into a puddle of tears where she sat. She shook her head and shrugged.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, Master. Please, may I be excused?"

She trembled as she cried, and she watched Narcissa and Voldemort make worried eye contact. Finally he nodded.

"You may."

Bellatrix rose and tossed her napkin down, dashing quickly around the table and out of the dining room. She trotted down the corridor and around a corner to a panel in the wall, where she slumped. The portraits around her began gossipping at once.

"Isn't that the one that killed her husband?"  
"Do you think she's all right?"

"Would  _you_  be all right?"

"Bellatrix."

She snapped her attention up at the sound of her name, at the sound of his voice. Voldemort was walking briskly toward her, coming round the corner. Bellatrix scrambled up to the stand and immediately dipped into a curtsy.

"I'm so sorry, Master. I ought not to have spoken on your behalf. It was… I have no idea what I was thinking."

"You are still over-sensitive to emotion," he said clinically. "You feel everything more strongly right now than usual. You panic. You overreact. You decompose in the face of reprimand. It is to be expected, given your grief and your struggle with guilt."

Bellatrix just stared at him. He understood what she was experiencing.

"I'm still so very sorry," she whispered. He just nodded and was silent for awhile, until he shrugged and said,

"I really do hate berries."

Bellatrix's lips curled up in spite of her anxiety. She found herself examining Voldemort's thin, white scars and the way his eye drooped a little. He seemed aware that she was studying him, but he said nothing. Then, at last, he asked very matter-of-factly,

"So. Tuxedo robes, or no?"

Bellatrix blinked. "I beg your pardon, Master?"

"Narcissa and Lucius were discussing whether or not he ought to wear a full tuxedo robe set tomorrow," he reminded her. "I was rather wondering the same thing for myself, but I've no one with whom to argue the matter. You have strong opinions about berry tart. What do you think about tuxedo robes?"

Bellatrix just stared for a moment, until his eyebrows went up in expectation. Finally, she told him,

"I think that the Dark Lord himself could never possibly be overdressed at a wedding. You must wear tuxedo robes, Master."

He smirked and nodded. "Very well, then. I shall wear the tuxedo robes. Do you know what I hate almost as much as I hate berries, Bellatrix?"

She shook her head in silence. He rapped his knuckles on the paneled wall and broadened his smirk.

"Bow ties. Good evening, Bella."

"Good evening, My Lord," she said as he turned to go, rounding the corner and leaving her standing alone in wonder.

**Author's Note: Now we're starting to get some vague hints of Bellamort. So who's excited for this wedding, where there might be trouble or maybe some more slow burn building? Mwah hahaha.**

**If you're reading and enjoying this story, I'd be immensely grateful if you could just take a quick moment and leave a review. It would mean the world to me. Thanks so very much.**


	5. Wedding

Bellatrix studied her reflection in her full-length mirror. She'd put on a gown with a backless, long-sleeved bodice and floor-length tulle skirts. She had a circular diamond pendant on around her neck. It had been her wedding gift from Rodolphus. In her ears were diamond stud earrings that had been her fifth anniversary gift from her husband. She'd pulled her curls back into a braided bun to show off her jewelry, and she'd worn black satin shoes for comfort. She'd made a habit of wearing heels with Rodolphus for dancing, but she didn't care tonight about being short. Why would she care about that when she was all alone?

Bellatrix had lined her eyes thickly with kohl. She'd done it on purpose. If she were to cry, the makeup would run. She was determined not to cry tonight. She'd made up her mind not to fall apart at this wedding. She stood before the mirror and applied some Everlast Lipstick in Irresistible Scarlet. Rodolphus used to challenge himself to kissing this stuff right off of her. Bellatrix smirked sadly at the memory of Rodolphus kissing her so hard that her lips bruised as they laughed madly.

" _I'm gonna get this lipstick off of you, Bells!"_

" _It doesn't come off, Dolph! Stop!"_

" _Do you really want me to stop?"_

" _Erm… no…"_

There was a knock on the door that led from Bellatrix's suite to the corridor, and then the door opened. Narcissa came walking into the suite and then the bedroom.

"I just wanted to check on you," she said warmly. "Almost time to go. You look positively radiant."

"So do you, Cissy."

Narcissa was wearing watery silk in dark silver with her brown-streaked blonde hair swept into a twist at the back of her head. Bellatrix's eyes went to the spiky shoes Narcissa had chosen, and her brows went up.

"How do you mean to walk in heels that high?"

Narcissa laughed. "I'll find a way. I'd forgotten you had that gown."

Bellatrix's stomach sank a little. "Rodolphus always adored it. He told me I was a vision in Darkness whenever I wore this."

"Well, Rodolphus was right." Narcissa smiled sadly. "Listen. We have a location. Mulciber Manor."

"Ah. That will be… dank and dour for a wedding," Bellatrix said, choking out a laugh. The location of the wedding had been kept a mysterious secret until just now to avoid the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry learning about it. Mulciber Manor was a large but sour-feeling manor in Kent. Bellatrix remembered going to a Halloween party there with Rodolphus when they'd been newly-married. They'd spent half the evening conversing with the two ghosts that haunted Mulciber Manor, a couple whose son had murdered them for his inheritance in 1652.

Narcissa primped her hair where she stood and huffed a breath.

"Ready to go? You should come with Lucius and me."

"As your third wheel?" Bellatrix eyed her sceptically. Narcissa gave Bellatrix a weighty look.

"I will not let you go alone."

Bellatrix sighed and stepped closer to Narcissa.

"Can I tell you something quite maudlin and stupid, Cissy? You're a good sister."

Narcissa looked suddenly like she would cry. She swiped at her shimmering eyes and held out her hand.

"Oh, you. You shall make me muss my makeup, Bella. And it's time to go."

* * *

Bellatrix considered spending her entire evening at the wedding with the ghosts. They were far more interesting than the celebration happening, and she wanted to know more about their story. She stared at the empty seat beside her at the round table where she'd been seated for dinner and scowled.

"Couldn't they have been bothered to do away with Dolph's seat so it isn't so very obvious that he isn't here?"

Narcissa pinched her lips. "You would think so. I'm so sorry."

Bellatrix was seated with Abraxas and Adelaide Malfoy, Lucius and Narcissa, and her parents, Cygnus and Druella Black. Druella carved off a bite of asparagus, chewed it, sipped her wine, and listened as Adelaide Malfoy asked,

"Didn't darling Cecilia look positively gorgeous in her gown at the ceremony?"

Bellatrix suddenly remembered her own wedding. She'd worn cream-coloured taffeta. It had been one of the only times she'd worn so pale a colour. She remembered kissing Rodolphus in front of everyone after slipping his gold ring onto his finger. Suddenly Bellatrix was staring at her plate of asparagus and lemon quite blankly.

"Bellatrix, dear?"

She looked up to see that the entire table was staring at her. Adelaide Malfoy asked delicately,

"What did you think of your cousin Cecilia's flowers?"

"I didn't notice them," Bellatrix said plainly. People kept conversing without her after that. They appeared to have given up on the idea of talking to her. Bellatrix numbly ate her food for a few minutes and then finally stared up at the head table. Cecilia and Bastian were eating together. Cecilia's sister Cora was beside her, and Bastian's best friend Nathan Yaxley was beside him. At the end of the head table, seated at a place of honour among these gathered guests, was Lord Voldemort.

He was picking absently at his food, looking bored. He'd worn tuxedo robes, and Bellatrix curled up her lips a little at the idea of how much he despised bow ties. He'd worn one anyway. She stared at his face, at his cropped grey hair, at the cheekbone that seemed like it had been crushed. Suddenly Voldemort's dark eyes flicked over to her, and he slowly set down his fork. Voldemort and Bellatrix made eye contact for a solid three seconds, during which time the noisy great hall seemed to go silent. Then someone walked up to Voldemort and bowed. His attention was immediately drawn away from Bellatrix, and her heart began to pound.

She forced herself to cut and consume some of the roast chicken and potato. Then she decided to go check on the perimeter of the manor, thinking that was something productive to do. She quietly excused herself from the table, muttering something about doing her duty as a Death Eater. She walked as quickly as she could out of the dark, crowded hall, her wand clutched in her hand. She started to stalk through the manor and was about to go down a flight of stairs when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Bellatrix?"

She turned to see Voldemort walking toward her, tuxedo robes billowing.

"Are you leaving?" he demanded. She shook her head fiercely.

"No, Master; I was going to check on the perimeter."

"I've just received an updated report," Voldemort said. "Everything is fine."

"Oh." Bellatrix felt embarrassed then, staring at him in silence. Voldemort adjusted his grip on his own wand, and she suddenly realised he'd been prepared to stop her from leaving. She slowly tucked her wand into her gown's pocket, and he tucked his own wand into his tuxedo robe jacket. He sniffed lightly and said,

"I think your cousin is about to cut her cake. Come back inside."

"Yes, Master."

She followed him into the hall and returned to her table, explaining a bit awkwardly that Voldemort had been getting updates on the perimeter and that all was well. Cecilia and Bastian made their way out to the five-tiered white frosted cake in the centre of the room then. Bellatrix remembered her own wedding cake. It had had strawberry filling. Voldemort hated strawberries. He'd been at her wedding. He must have hated her wedding cake, Bellatrix thought. She would have had a different cake if she'd known then that he hated berries.

She clapped along with the others as Cecilia and Bastian smilingly fed one another bites of vanilla cake. Soon enough, the House-Elf's magic had sliced the cake into over a hundred slices and distributed it. Bellatrix tried to eated the vanilla cake, but she was socked with the reality of the emptiness of the chair beside her. A piece of cake had appeared on a plate before the empty chair. It was Rodolphus' cake. Bellatrix shoved her plate of cake away and struggled not to cry.

She was silent and blank-faced as she followed the crowd out of the great hall and through the corridor to the ballroom for dancing and cocktails. She would have danced all night with Rodolphus, she thought. He'd stepped on the hem of her gown at their wedding during their first dance. She'd laughed it off and called him a  _silly boy_  as she'd touched the tip of his nose. Now Bellatrix rushed to fetch herself a glass of white wine from a table full of them, remembering the Dark Lord's command that Death Eaters stay sober. She lamented that order now. It would be nice to be drunk tonight, she thought.

Cecilia and Bastian shared their first dance, but Bellatrix didn't watch. She couldn't. She just stared at the damask wallpaper and slowly sipped her wine. She tried not to think of the feel of Rodolphus' hands on her when they had danced at weddings and parties. The dance floor opened up, and Bellatrix flicked her eyes up to see Lucius guiding Narcissa out to dance. A sudden stab of jealousy spiked through Bellatrix's belly. She was happy, one one hand, that her sister had her loving husband alive and well and here. But she felt Rodolphus' absence more keenly than ever as she watched Narcissa and Lucius sway together. Her parents were dancing, too. So were the Malfoys. Bellatrix felt profoundly alone. She chugged down the rest of her wine, wondering whether the Dark Lord might make an exception and let her get drunk, after all. She could probably fight drunk if she needed to.

"I thought the chicken was inexcusably dry."

Bellatrix grinned, recognising her master's voice, and stared into her empty wine glass for just a moment to gather herself. Then she descended into a deep curtsy and raised her eyes to him.

"Master. I'm so sorry you were displeased."

"And I much prefer chocolate cake," he continued. Bellatrix's smile grew. He was trying to cheer her up. It was working. She set down her empty glass and assured him,

"I shall go quite slowly with the wine this evening, sir."

"I think you've earned a glass or two at an event like this," he said smoothly, "all things considered."

He was sipping firewhisky from a tumbler with ice in it, and for some reason, watching him do that made Bellatrix's stomach churn oddly. He finished off his drink and set it down on the tray of a passing elf. Then his face was quite serious, and he noted,

"You danced with him. Often. I remember."

Bellatrix's eyes burned like fire. She nodded, affirming,

"Yes, Master. We danced whenever we had the excuse, he and I."

Voldemort shifted on his feet, glancing out to the dance floor and scratching at his cropped grey hair. His throat bobbed. He was quiet for so long that Bellatrix tried to think of something to say. This was the first time that silence between them had felt uncomfortable. Finally, Voldemort said in a harsh, almost angry voice,

"I am a poor substitute, I realise. You have had an insufficient amount of time to process the loss, still. Just the same, I wonder if you might care for one single dance, Bella."

She was in shock. Had Lord Voldemort just asked her to dance? She was relatively certain that was what had happened. She stared at him rudely, blinking. He glared back and snapped,

"Nevermind. I ought not to have suggested it. It's an unsound notion. In any case, I do not care much for dancing."

Bellatrix felt her eyes well so heavily that she worried about her thick eyeliner running in streaks down her face. She finally choked out,

"Master, I would be profoundly grateful for one dance. Thank you."

Voldemort nodded crisply and turned away, walking purposefully toward the dance floor. Bellatrix trotted behind him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. On the dance floor, she stood before him, unsure of how to touch him. He took her right hand in his, and she flinched quite obviously. Her shaking left hand went up to his shoulder, and she registered just how tall he was. Suddenly she wished she'd worn heels. She felt so short, almost miniature compared with him.

His right hand wrapped around her body and came to rest on her exposed back. His fingers instantly clenched a little there, and his brows furrowed. He seemed troubled by the way her dress forced him to touch her bare flesh. Finally he just planted his hand confidently upon Bellatrix's back, and she gulped at the feel of his palm and fingers pressed between her shoulders. He pulled her just close enough to dance properly, and they began to sway to the two-step that the band was playing. Bellatrix felt others' eyes upon her, but she'd grown used to that. People had been staring at her ever since Rodolphus had died. She sighed and stared up at Voldemort, forcing a little smile.

"Why don't you like dancing?" she asked him in a voice that was breathier than she'd intended. He shrugged a bit and replied simply,

"It feels awkward."

Bellatrix's little smile grew a bit, and she nodded. This did feel awkward, what they were doing, but it was strangely pleasant, too. She wasn't sure what to say next. She stared at the black buttons on his white dress shirt and then raised her eyes and asked him carefully,

"Why don't you like bow ties?"

Now he was the one smiling a bit. He opened his mouth, considering his answer, and then he said,

"They're too confining. Feel like I'm choking all night in them."

Bellatrix licked her lip nervously. "Then I reckon you're quite looking forward to ripping that bow tie off at the end of the night."

His smile faded, and Bellatrix wondered if she'd said something out of line. But he nodded and whispered,

"Yes. I am… looking forward to ripping it off."

A new song started up, and they kept dancing, changing up their tempo and moving more smoothly through the slower piece. Bellatrix decided to continue her line of questioning.

"Why don't you like berries?" she asked quietly. He answered her in a soft, simple voice.

"I dislike the flavour and texture of most of them. That's all."

"It's as simple as that?" Bellatrix inquired. "Is there a dessert you would have preferred?"

Voldemort shrugged and tipped his head. "Chocolate mousse."

"Oh." She anxiously smiled again. "I like that, too."

He stared down at her in silence for a very long moment. This time, the silence felt profoundly comfortable. It felt so comfortable, in fact, that Bellatrix lost track of time, of the way the song ended and a slightly more spirited piece started up. She and Voldemort adjusted their steps, and for a while she stared at his buttons again. They were shiny, she thought. His shirt was crisp and vibrantly white. She looked up at him, and he sighed.

"This is the third song," he said stiffly. "We'd said one dance, had we not?"

Bellatrix jolted back to reality and nodded quickly. She nodded and quickly backed away from Voldemort. She curtsied deeply to him.

"Thank you so much, My Lord," she murmured reverently, keeping her head bowed and her eyes lowered. Voldemort seemed to hesitate for a moment, and she looked up at him. He nodded finally and said,

"The pleasure was mine… Madam Lestrange."

He walked briskly away from her then, and she watched as he was quickly ensnared into conversation with Cecilia Rosier's father - Bellatrix's uncle. Bellatrix smiled to herself, meandering off to the table full of wine glasses and feeling dizzy.

Perhaps this hadn't been the second-worst night of her life, after all.

**Author's Note: Woo hoo! Starting to get into some real, actual Bellamort situations. Sloooowly. I do so love writing a good slow burn.**

**I hate complaining about reviews, so I won't! ;) But I will note that I'm so very grateful for the people reading this story, and I would really love to know more of what your thoughts are on the story. If you wouldn't mind taking a quick second to leave a review, I'd really be more grateful than you know. Thanks so much.**


	6. Stairs

" _CRUCIO!"_

Bellatrix curiously approached the burgundy parlour. She'd heard Voldemort's voice bellow out the Cruciatus Curse. A week had passed since her cousin Cecilia's wedding, and she had seen Voldemort only in passing since then. Now she heard him torturing someone. Something was awry. She saw Lucius Malfoy approaching the parlour from the other direction, and she hissed at him,

"What's happened? Who's in there?"

Lucius neared Bellatrix and waited for the screaming to die down for a moment before he said,

"It's Ravenscroft. He and I were on a mission to attack Muggles - an intimidation tactic. Ravenscroft got jumped from behind by a Muggle constable and lost his wand. He nearly wound up being arrested and taken away by the constable. I had to rescue him. I cleaned up his mess; I had to Obliviate sixteen witnesses and kill the Constable. Ravenscroft is being punished for his carelessness and because he tried to make excuses to the Dark Lord when we returned from the botched mission."

There was a bloodcurdling scream from Ravenscroft then. Lucius waited for the scream to fade, and then he said,

"Do you know, Bellatrix, what the Dark Lord said when we got back from mucking up? He said that he ought to have sent you. He said that you wouldn't have let a Muggle jump you, that you would have slain Muggles left, right, and centre."

Bellatrix felt strangely emotional at the idea that her master still had confidence in her. She listened for a few moments to the shrieking coming from the parlour. She stepped toward the door and watched Voldemort torturing Ravenscroft, observing with glee the way the scarlet web of light curled and twitched around Ravenscroft's arching body.

"Will he kill him?" Bellatrix asked Lucius softly.

"It's not our decision, is it?" Lucius replied. "Ravenscroft bungled his work and then was surly with his master. He's earned what's come to him."

Bellatrix was transfixed, mesmerised by the sight of Voldemort furiously casting his Cruciatus Curse. After another moment of her voyeurism, he flicked his eyes toward the doorway. He stared at Bellatrix for a moment, holding his Cruciatus. Then he reached out with his left hand and wandlessly slammed the door shut.

Bellatrix and Lucius stumbled backward, and Bellatrix eyed her brother-in-law, worried.

"When's the last time you saw him this angry?" she whispered.

He hesitated. "It's… been a while."

" _Avada Kedavra!"_  shrieked their master's voice from inside the parlour. Bellatrix's eyes went wide. So Ravenscroft was dead, then. She and Lucius glanced at one another and wordlessly, quickly walked away from one another, moving briskly in opposite directions.

* * *

Later that day, Bellatrix was outside in the gardens, sitting on a bench and staring at the black leather gloves on her hands. They were the ones Voldemort had Transfigured for her over a week earlier. They'd never changed back into leaves. He was so powerful, she thought. So skilled. He had to be among the most powerful wizards who had ever lived. Perhaps, Bellatrix thought, there had never been anyone more powerful at all. She dragged her gloved fingers over her palm and contemplated just what a good job of Transfiguring the leaves he'd done. These gloves were beautiful and smooth and fit her wonderfully. She would be rather sad, she thought, when they inevitably became leaves again.

It began to drizzle a bit, a frigid fall of misty rain from the heavens. Bellatrix considered for a moment rising from the bench and going inside. But she ultimately decided to stay outside in the rain. She began to think about a time when she and Rodolphus had been walking in Diagon Alley. It had been cold and rainy, and they'd been shopping for Christmas gifts. Bellatrix had been wearing heeled boots and had slipped on the rainy cobblestones. He'd reached out to catch her and help her up. When she'd stood, she'd felt compelled to kiss him. They'd stood there in the cold rain, kissing in public like idiots.

Bellatrix smiled a little at the memory, a lone tear worming its way down her cheek and camouflaging itself among raindrops. She swiped at it, smearing rain across her cheek. Her curls were plastering themselves to her face where her hood didn't cover, and she shoved them behind her ears as she sniffed a little.

"Bellatrix Lestrange!"

She flew up to her feet and whirled around quickly. Voldemort was stalking angrily toward her, looking furious. He was wearing long black robes and no cloak, freezing rain having obviously soaked him on his walk here from the manor. Bellatrix felt her eyes go round as saucers, and she immediately dipped into a deep, reverential curtsy. She held the curtsy as Voldemort slashed his wand through a bare hedge and came storming up to the bench.

"I need you back in service," he barked sharply. "Half of my bloody Death Eaters are less than useless. The other half I keep more than a little busy. There's a damned war on. I need you working again."

Bellatrix nodded vigorously and rose from her curtsy. "I shall serve you properly as soon as you will it, Master."

"Yes, well, there's one problem," Voldemort sneered. "I do not think you are ready to fight."

Bellatrix's mouth dropped open. She tried to formulate an argument. She knew it was a fool's errand to fight with him, and, in any case, he was probably right. She still shook sometimes when she thought of Rodolphus. She still had nightmares from which she awakened screaming. She still sat silently at dinners. She wandered corridors in silence day after day. Could she cast a Cruciatus Curse right now? Could she cast a Killing Curse? The spell she'd cast when she'd accidentally murdered Rodolphus? The words  _Avada Kedavra_ would probably fizzle on her lips these days.

"I must serve you," Bellatrix insisted, her words sounding desperate to her own ears. "I promised to serve you."

"Then you must become ready to fight again, somehow," Voldemort said coldly.

It began to rain much harder, and Bellatrix let her eyes flutter shut. Suddenly she was transported back to the day she had killed Rodolphus. It had been raining hard that day, too. Muddy. Bellatrix could still feel that rain, that mud beneath her boots. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut and saw Isla Asher dodging her Killing Curse. She could see the green flash of light smacking into Rodolphus' huddled form. She could feel his mask beneath her fingers as she pulled it off to reveal his dead, staring eyes.

"Bellatrix."

She opened her eyes and realised that she was shivering ferociously where she was standing. Voldemort was staring straight at her, his face emotionless. He shook his head.

"No. You are not ready to fight."

Bellatrix began to stammer helplessly. "I won't… I have to… I don't know what's the matter with me, My Lord."

"You have been traumatised by what's happened," he said very simply. "And as a result, I have been victimised just as surely as your husband. I have lost my most valuable, most skilled soldier."

"Not forever." Bellatrix shook her head determinedly. "I promise you. I'll be back in working order before you know it. There must be a way forward, and I shall find it."

He nodded then, seeming far more calm than he had been when he'd come out here. Voldemort was soaked to the bone with rain, it seemed, and very thoughtful. He sighed and said,

"I killed one of my Death Eaters today. I feel like getting drunk."

For a split second, Bellatrix thought that he might ask her to get drunk with him. But he just studied her, looking her up and down. Then he turned and walked away from her, back toward the house, leaving her alone by the bench.

* * *

That night, Bellatrix was on her way back up to her suite, thinking of the rather pleasant dinner she and Narcissa had shared in a spare parlour. The sisters had agreed that in the morning, they'd go shopping in Diagon Alley, and Bellatrix found herself quite looking forward to it. She needed to get out of the manor some more, she thought. It was important to the process of getting into fighting shape. So she was in an oddly good mood as she climbed the winding stairs that led up to the level where her suite was located.

Halfway up the broad, twisting stone stairs, Bellatrix heard uneven steps from up above her. She paused as a tall figure came walking down the stairs. It was Voldemort, and he was very evidently drunk. He swayed as he descended, and when he stopped three steps up from Bellatrix, he leaned rather heavily onto the wall.

"Oh. Hullo," he muttered when he saw her. He gestured aimlessly. "I was just… on my way to my office. I have to… there's paperwork for Ravenscroft, you know."

Bellatrix nodded her understanding and then realised she hadn't shown him proper deference when she'd seen him. She was his servant; he was her master. She quickly fell into a curtsy, but she tripped on the stair in doing so. Voldemort reached down and snatched at her grappling arms, pulling her back up to safety using wandless magic. Bellatrix gasped, feeling her body right itself, and she mumbled in embarrassment,

"Sorry. Thank you, My Lord."

"What are  _you_  doing on these stairs?" he asked her in a blur of words. She answered simply,

"I am going to my rooms, Master."

"Oh, yes. That makes sense." He touched at his forehead and swayed again. Bellatrix frowned.

"You're rather drunk, I think, My Lord."

"I am." He smirked just a little. Then he licked his bottom lip and studied Bellatrix's eyes. Suddenly his expression was almost warm. "I need you back in service."

Bellatrix nodded. "I shall return to combat as quickly as I possibly can, Master. I promise. I'm going shopping with Cissy tomorrow to try… you know, to try and begin moving forward."

Voldemort dragged his thumb over his bottom lip and asked, "Have you sufficient funds for shopping?"

"Oh, yes, Master," Bellatrix assured him. "Thank you. Erm… Dolph left me a good deal of money."

Voldemort seemed then as though there were something he wanted to say. He stepped down closer to her and seemed on the verge of saying something weighty. But then he just put his hand on the wall again and stared. Bellatrix couldn't breathe all of a sudden. Was she… was she  _attracted_  to him? Surely not. He wasn't handsome, was he? There was something oddly alluring about his dark eyes, his scars, his marled lips. He was tall and looming. She was drawn to his power. She was pulled to him like a magnet.

Bellatrix stepped up, and suddenly they were only one step apart. She was breathless and dizzy then. For this one moment, Rodolphus had gone entirely from her mind. She was consumed by the master before her, by his face and his scent of leather and books. She thought back to earlier today, when he'd been torturing and killing Ravenscroft. She felt so dizzy now, thinking on it, that she was sure she was going to faint on the stairs.

"My, how very rude I am being, not letting you pass by on your way to your suite. Goodnight, Bella," said Voldemort. He sounded more drunk than ever, his words slurring. Bellatrix passed him by as he stepped aside, and she whispered frantically,

"Goodnight, Master."

He surprised her by grasping at her wrist once she was above him, and she turned back. He stared right at her and said,

"I sincerely hope, will all my might, that you will enjoy yourself tomorrow shopping, and that the excursion will prove useful in moving you closer to combat service, Bellatrix."

She smiled weakly at him and asked, "Is that your way of telling me to have fun, My Lord?"

He blinked and stared at where he was holding her wrist. He released her as if she were on fire, glaring at his own hand for a second and then nodding.

"Have fun, Bella. Goodnight."

He stumbled down the rest of the stairs, away from her. Bellatrix turned and pattered quickly up the stairs, heading for bed as quickly as she could.

It wasn't until an hour later, lying under the down comforter and staring at the ceiling, that she realised she was indeed attracted to Lord Voldemort. His dark eyes, his scars, his lips, the smell of leather and books. He was forbidden to her in so very many ways. And she was still deeply in mourning.

But she shut her eyes and thought of him, and for the first time in over a month, she wasn't consumed by flashbacks or visions. Instead she thought of the gloves that still hadn't turned back to leaves. She thought of dancing at Cecilia's wedding, his palm pressed to her back. She thought of the shiny buttons on his tuxedo robes, and of her master standing so near to her on the stairs.

As Bellatrix drifted off to sleep, she wasn't haunted, and her rest was deep and sure.

**Author's Note: I promise this slow burn is going somewhere! Haha! We'll see some shopping in the next chapter, along with a nice progression of the Bellamort part of this story.**

**I want to thank you so very much for the feedback being left on this story. I value it so very much and am so grateful for it.**


	7. Hands

"What do you think of these?"

Narcissa held up a boxed set of makeup brushes. She and Bellatrix were inside Madam Primpernelle's on Diagon Alley. Narcissa's brushes were pink-bristled, with shiny gold handles. They ranged from tiny eye makeup brushes to big poufy cheek brushes.

Bellatrix scoffed loudly. "Those are quite possibly the most ridiculous things I have seen in my life."

Narcissa stuck her tongue out and put the brushes into her shopping basket almost indignantly. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and plucked a bottle of rose perfume off a shelf. She pulled off the lid of the bottle and smelled the metal atomiser. She used to wear vanilla-jasmine perfume that Rodolphus bought her, but she'd run out just before his death and hadn't replaced it. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to wear something different. She needed a way forward, after all. She would always miss Rodolphus, but she must begin to move forward in order to get back into combat service. Perhaps she could start with perfume. The rose was nice, she thought. For some strange reason, smelling it brought the image of Lord Voldemort's face into her mind.

She put the bottle of perfume into her shopping basket.

Narcissa walked up to her and showed her a brand-new shade of lipstick. She popped off the lid and twisted up the lipstick.

"This seems like a colour you'd like, Bella."

It was a rich plum colour. Bellatrix nodded crisply and put the lipstick in her basket.

"What about you? Buying a new lipstick?"

Narcissa showed her a shimmering pale pink colour she'd chosen. Bellatrix nodded her approval, and Narcissa dropped the lipstick into her basket. She wandered over to another display, and the sales witch rushed over to show her something. Bellatrix ambled about for awhile until Narcissa called,

"Do you like these hair pins, Bella?"

She held up some glittering gold pins. Bellatrix curled her lip a little.

"For you, or for me?"

"For me, silly," laughed Narcissa. Bellatrix smirked.

"Yes, I like them for you."

The girls went up to the counter to pay and then left Diagon Alley, making their way back to Malfoy Manor through Apparition. Back at the manor, Bellatrix and Narcissa were climbing up the stairs in the grand foyer. Bellatrix was mocking the sales witch in Madam Primpernelle's.

"For someone selling makeup, she really needs a lesson on applying eyeliner."

"Bellatrix, you are dreadful!" Narcissa giggled.

"Tell me I'm wrong, Cissy." Bellatrix climbed the last stair and carried on down the corridor. She opened her eyes widely and blinked rapidly.

" _Can I help you girls find anything?_ " She imitated the witch's thin, reedy voice, and Narcissa laughed. Bellatrix devolved into a fit of mad laughter as she and her sister continued on down the corridor.

"The Sisters Black."

"My Lord!" Bellatrix and Narcissa dipped into twin reverential curtsies on the carpet runner as they realised Lord Voldemort stood watching them. They stood very slowly, and he said simply,

"It is very good to see you laughing, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix shied a little and nodded. "Yes, well. Cissy's gotten me into something of a jovial mood, Master."

"Has she? Job well done, Narcissa." Voldemort flicked his eyes between Bellatrix and Narcissa. "Bellatrix, come into my office."

Bellatrix nervously gripped her canvas shopping bag and nervously followed Voldemort into his office. She wondered anxiously if she was in trouble about something. His office was elegant and dark, and she felt small and insignificant in here. Voldemort pulled out a chair for her on one side of his desk, and she slowly sat. He sat in his large leather chair on the other side of the desk.

"You enjoyed yourself shopping, then?" he asked, and Bellatrix replied quietly,

"I did, My Lord. For the first time in over a month, I laughed. I… I had fun. He would have wanted me having fun now and then, I think."

"Indeed. And what did you purchase?" he inquired. Bellatrix hesitated.

"Just… some lipstick and perfume, sir."

His cheeks flushed a little, and he nodded.

"I should like to make an apology to you. I do not often apologise, and yet I feel compelled to do so, in this case."

Bellatrix scowled. "Whatever for, Master?"

He drummed his fingers on the desk and shifted in his chair. "I was quite drunk last night when I encountered you in the stairwell. I do hope I did not, in any way, induce discomfort."

Suddenly Bellatrix thought back to the way he'd stood a step above her, staring at her. Was he remembering it differently?

"Master, there is nothing to apologise for. Nothing at all."

He tapped his fingers again and cleared his throat. "I confess it is rather a haze. The entire… encounter. I had rather a lot of firewhisky, so…"

Bellatrix realises he thought he had done something uncouth. Did he think he'd touched her? She shook her head.

"My Lord, you said you were off to do paperwork on Ravenscroft, and then we discussed my shopping trip, and that was it."

He seemed a bit confused. "I held your wrist. I remember holding onto you."

Bellatrix's heart began to race, and she said softly,

"You took hold of me to make me pause, My Lord, but you didn't…"

"Oh." He nodded. "It was different, in my memory, but of course firewhisky paints thinks askew. In any case…"

He trailed off then, apparently embarrassed. Bellatrix just sat in silence, twining her thumbs together on her lap.

"Rose," she said at last, and he asked tightly,

"I beg your pardon?"

"The perfume I purchased today. It's rose. It's different from the perfume I have been wearing for the past seven years. I feel it is time to try and move forward wherever I can." She was resolute then, raising her eyes to his.

"I think that is very wise," Voldemort told her.

"I will fight for you quite soon," she assured him, and he replied,

"I know you will."

"Have you got a mission for me, Master?" she asked desperately. "Somewhere I can attack? Something I can -"

"Not yet. I will, when I believe you are ready," he promised her.

"Will there be a meeting to address what happened with Ravenscroft?" Bellatrix asked then, and Voldemort tipped his head.

"Word will work its way around that the Dark Lord grew extremely angry at Ravenscroft's failure, that the man was tortured and executed, and people will be more careful. They'll be just a little more afraid of crossing me. There's a war on; we haven't got room for mistakes. And that is why I can not put you into service until the moment I know you are prepared to fight again."

"I understand, My Lord," Bellatrix said, and she paused. She debated whether to ask him what she did next, but she went ahead. "Shall I see you tonight in the dining room?"

"I normally eat alone in here," he said matter-of-factly, and Bellatrix gave a quick nod.

"Yes, of course. Forgive me. May I be excused, or was there something else you needed of me?"

He shook his head and folded his hands. "You may go."

She rose and turned, but he quickly called,

"Bella."

Bellatrix rotated back round on the ball of her foot, raising her brows expectantly. Voldemort hesitated for a moment, then said lightly,

"I shall be at dinner."

She smiled shyly and curtsied a little. "My Lord."

Then she left, keeping her steps quick as she departed his office.

* * *

Bellatrix dragged her spoon slowly through her butternut squash soup. It seemed that Voldemort had decided not to come to dinner, after all. Bellatrix eyed his empty seat at the head of the table and frowned. She tried to listen to the conversation among the others. Adelaide Malfoy and Narcissa were discussing Narcissa's new makeup brushes.

"They're bubblegum pink and so fluffy; they're delightful," Narcissa was saying, and Bellatrix pulled up a lip. She forced a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

Suddenly the dining room door flew open, and Voldemort came stalking quickly into the dining room. Everyone was on their feet in an instant, including Bellatrix, whose heart thunked in her chest as she watched her master move toward the head of the table.

"Pardon my tardiness," he said, making it sound more like a command than an apology. "I had an urgent meeting to attend to with a very distraught Madam Ravenscroft and it ran long. Do sit."

Voldemort came to sat at the head of the table. Butternut squash soup appeared before him. As the others sat back down and began a fresh, quiet conversation, Voldemort murmured to Bellatrix,

"Good evening, Bella."

She blinked quickly, her heart fluttering at the sound of his voice.

"G-Good evening, My Lord."

"D'you know, I've got an entire box reserved for the Puddlemere United match this coming week," said Abraxas Malfoy loudly as the soup gave way to the main course of roasted goat and potato. Bellatrix thought distantly that Voldemort hadn't had time to eat his soup, but she was hardly about to speak up for him about food again. She turned her attention to Abraxas, who smiled proudly. "It's a grand box with a fantastic view and full concessions service. You're all invited, of course."

All except Voldemort, obviously. It wasn't as though the Dark Lord himself could go attending Quidditch matches as a spectator. Bellatrix flicked her eyes to him and then stared back to Abraxas. Narcissa insisted,

"Oh, but Bella, you  _must_  come. It'd be such great fun, and you could use another outing. Shopping was so good for you; think of how helpful this would be."

Bellatrix chomped her lip indecisively. It had been a Quidditch match where she'd accidentally killed Rodolphus. Whenever she thought of Quidditch, she thought of killing her husband. But she heard her master's voice from beside her say,

"You must continue with your way forward."

Bellatrix nodded at him. "Then I shall go. Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

Everyone else began excitedly chatting about the Puddlemere match then, but Bellatrix focused for a while on her goat and potato. After a while, she looked up to see Voldemort staring right at her. He glanced down at his plate, but then looked up again. His throat visibly bobbed beneath his collar. Bellatrix felt her skin tingle.

"Master, what do you think?"

Voldemort blinked a few times. "Sorry?"

Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat. "I was just saying that it seems a bit of a security risk for high-profile Death Eaters to attend the Quidditch match, since the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix have likely placed extra security at -"

"No, I think you should go," Voldemort interrupted, shaking his head. "Life doesn't stop entirely just because there's a war on. If someone tries to arrest you, Lucius, you fight back or Disapparate. You don't hide out in your home wallowing until it's all over."

_Wallowing._  That had been the word Bellatrix had used when she'd apologised to him for being catatonic the first few weeks after Rodolphus' death.

"Then we shall go, My Lord," Lucius nodded.

After a few more minutes of rather stilted conversation about new winter robes from Twillfit and Tattings, the main courses dissolved, and desserts appeared. Chocolate mousse. Bellatrix grinned. Had Voldemort requested this after the fiasco with the berry tart? She smiled at him, unable to help herself, and he actually winked back at her as he picked up her spoon. She felt very warm all of a sudden as she picked up her own spoon in a shaking hand. She spooned some mousse into her mouth, and Voldemort watched her. He seemed rather fascinated by the sight of her eating it, his eyes locked onto her. Bellatrix's chest felt hollow suddenly. She sipped at her sweet white wine and watched as he slowly dragged a spoonful of mousse between his own lips.

She shivered then, setting down her wine. Voldemort took a sip of his own dessert wine, and Bellatrix's eyes fluttered a little. She felt her nipples peak inside of her bra. There was a mysterious warm flush between her legs.

She  _wanted_  him.

Bellatrix panicked. She took a very shaking breath and looked away, but the sensations in her body did not fade. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think of the way his dark eyes had pierced into her.

"Excuse me, please," she blurted loudly, opening her eyes. Narcissa looked quite concerned as Bellatrix flew to her feet.

"Bellatrix, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm just… quite full… and I need an early night. So sorry. Goodnight."

She rushed around the table and out of the room, and from behind her she heard voices.

"I ought to go and check on her," Narcissa worried, but Voldemort snapped,

"I shall do it."

_No!_  Bellatrix thought desperately.  _Not you! Not right now._

She actually began to trot away, down the corridor where his office was in search of a stairwell.

"Bellatrix!"

She froze at the sound of his voice, knowing she must obey. She shut her eyes and waited. She heard his footsteps approaching with slow but broad steps, and when she could tell he was in front of her, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He frowned deeply and folded his arms over his chest.

"What the blazes is the matter?"

Bellatrix let out strange, helpless little noise and shrugged. "Can't you tell?"

Realisation crossed his face then, and he took a moment to study her lips, her eyes, her hair. His brows furrowed, and then his voice was a strange whisper.

"Bellatrix?"

She chewed her lip so hard she was sure it would bleed. Her eyes welled heavily, and she mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Master. I never intended to react like… I never meant to…"

She felt something on her hand then, and when she looked down, he'd unfolded his arms and had reached for her fingers. She watched him take hold of her hand with a light, careful touch. When she looked up at him in surprise, one side of his marled lips had curled up into a slight smirk. Bellatrix squeezed back at his fingers a little and took a step closer to him. Suddenly she realised she was breathing awfully quickly, and she could smell leather and books on him.

"Roses," he said in a low voice. She parted her lips in question, and Voldemort continued, "Your new rose perfume. You've put some on, haven't you?"

Bellatrix nodded, feeling his thumb drag over hers slowly and shivering where she stood.

"Bella? Where'd you get to? I'm worried about… oh."

Bellatrix stumbled backward, releasing Voldemort's hand and feeling very dizzy. She turned around at the sound of Narcissa's voice. Her sister stood outside of the dining room, and Voldemort barked at her,

"I told you I was checking on her, Narcissa."

Narcissa's face looked almost afraid. "I apologise, Master. I was fretting."

"Go back into the dining room," snapped Voldemort. Narcissa curtsied deeply and turned to go back into the room, her pale cheeks gone scarlet.

Bellatrix's own cheeks were on fire, flushed so hot she was was sure they were the colour of tomatoes. She reluctantly turned back toward Voldemort, wishing suddenly that they could just be standing here holding hands again. But he'd become stilted and distant.

"I'm very glad you're all right. I was concerned when you ran out of the dining room, so… in any case, I…"

His own cheeks were pink, she realised. Suddenly he sighed and bent down toward her, moving slowly and deliberately. Bellatrix panicked a little; did he mean to kiss her? Her hands flew to the front of his robes on instinct, but his face stopped well above her face, and he shut his eyes and shook his head just a little. He cleared his throat softly and stood back up, blinking slowly as if waking up from a dream.

"I… have work to do," he said in a quiet voice. "Good evening, Bellatrix."

He didn't wait for her response. He just turned and walked off quickly toward his office, opening and shutting the door quite deliberately and leaving Bellatrix in the corridor with a thumping heart and a twisting stomach.

She stood there, breath shaking, mind racing,  _wanting_ him, and confusion flushed through her veins as tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

**Author's Note: Oh, my. So they very evidently want each other now, but not very much time has passed since Rodolphus' death. What are they going to do about it. What do you guys think will happen at this Quidditch match? Will it be a nice, pleasant outing, or will Bellatrix be forced to fight for some reason?**

**As always, I'm so grateful for your readership, and I would be extremely grateful for your feedback. I'm always so glad to hear what people are thinking about the story, and it's very encouraging as a writer to get reviews. Thanks so much.**


	8. Quidditch

"Why didn't you tell me that Puddlemere United were playing the Chudley Cannons?"

Bellatrix felt gruff and angry as they approached the stadium. She was suddenly taken back to the attack over a month earlier. She could still see all the orange and black banners on fire, all the Chudley fans in orange fleeing the stands. She could still see Rodolphus' dead, staring eyes.

"Let's just hope that today's match doubles down on what happened at the Cannons' stadium, shall we?" Lucius japed loudly.

"Lucius!" Narcissa hissed.

He flicked his eyes to Bellatrix, reading the discomfort on her face. He winced.

"Sorry, Bellatrix."

She opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly a voice from behind her called,

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

She turned round at the sound of her name, frowning. It was Isla Asher, proudly standing a few strides away in an obnoxious orange jumper. Bellatrix whipped her wand out of its holster at her hip and instantly felt Narcissa's hand clasp around her wrist. Her sister's lips were suddenly beside her ear.

"She is not worth going to Azkaban."

"What do you want, Isla?" barked Bellatrix. Isla Asher narrowed her eyes.

"You tried to kill me at the Chudley Disaster."

Bellatrix scoffed, her wand shaking in her hand. "Did I? Prove it!"

"I know that was you behind that mask, aiming a Killing Curse at me after you tortured that wizard," Isla spat.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Bellatrix said, imperiously tipping up her chin.

"You're a lying killer, Bellatrix," Isla said in a shaking voice, "and I-"

Suddenly Isla's partner, a handsome, tall wizard in a vibrant orange-and-black Cannons cape, came walking up. Isla muttered something incomprehensible to him, and he said back to her,

"You are not working today, Isla. We're here for the match. Leave it be."

"I ought to arrest her," Isla Asher insisted. "Take her straight to the Wizengamot."

Bellatrix cackled a little laugh. "With what proof, you awful bitch?"

Isla's partner started dragging her in one direction, and Narcissa started dragging Bellatrix in the other direction. Bellatrix spat and hissed like an angry cat as Isla was hauled off, but eventually she let herself get pulled off to the scaffold that led to their box.

"What do you say we get some drinks into her as soon as possible?" Lucius suggested, and Bellatrix huffed as Narcissa laughed a little. The group climbed the wooden scaffolding to a box with velveteen seats, a dark blue awning, and magical heaters to keep them warm through the November chill. A gruff, cranky House-Elf was working the boxes, and he quickly came round to take concessions orders.

"What's the specialty drink for this game?" asked Abraxas.

"Autumn Fizz," growled the House-Elf. "Gin, lemon juice, honey, and apple cider."

"Ooh. I'll take one of those," Bellatrix said gladly. All the others order much milder Butterbeers and began chatting. Soon enough, drummers began to signal the start of the match, and the crowd broke into cheers and hollers. But then a voice came over the stadium, magically Amplified. It was the head coach of Puddlemere United. As he began speaking, the stadium fell quiet.

"To all those gathered for today's match, I bid you welcome. I ask that we all maintain a moment of silence to remember those injured, tortured, and especially those killed at the terrible attack on the Chudley Cannons' Stadium on the fifteenth of October."

There was a long, heavy silence, and Bellatrix caught Narcissa's eye. Narcissa seemed very uncomfortable by the moment of silence. She hadn't been there, Bellatrix thought to herself. Narcissa had been at Malfoy Manor during the attack. Dear little Cissy was not a soldier. Bellatrix thought of Rodolphus lying dead in the mud in her arms, of Isla Asher staring her down through the rain.

"And now, we return to  _life,_ " called the coach, his voice booming across the pitch. "We return to Quidditch. Let the match proceed!"

There was a great burst of cheering then, and the House-Elf brought their drinks. He handed Bellatrix her Autumn Fizz first. She sipped it, decided it was absolutely delicious, and began drinking it so quickly that the House-Elf hadn't finished doling out the Butterbeers before she ordered another.

A cannon was fired as the Chudley Cannons flew out onto the pitch. Bellatrix noticed that they all had black ribbons on the breasts of their Quidditch robes, obviously in memory of the attack the previous month. As a result of what had happened to the Chudley Cannons and their fans, there was less booing of the opposing team than there would normally have been. After the Chudley Cannons had made their preliminary round of the pitch, the House-Elf came back with Bellatrix's second drink.

She drank it as she remembered Chudley Cannons logos flapping in the flames on the stadium's burning trappings. She drank as she remembered the drunkard Cannons fan whom she'd tortured, the scarlet web of her Cruciatus Curse, the way he'd screamed for his mother. She drank as she remembered Isla Asher with her Knockback Jinx, dodging Bellatrix's Killing Curse, Disapparating into a black blur as the Killing Curse smacked into Rodolphus.

Bellatrix drank very deeply indeed.

Puddlemere United flew out next as a round of "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here" broke out. Bellatrix didn't know the lyrics, but Lucius, Abraxas, and Adelaide Malfoy loudly sang along.

" _Beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here. No team can ever best the best of Puddlemere! You'll catch that Golden Snitch with the easiest of ease. Grab your Beater's bat and in no time flat, prove the game is yours to seize."_

The match began at last, and at that point the House-Elf wisely brought Bellatrix a third drink. Narcissa eyed Bellatrix and sighed deeply.

"Bella, I know Lucius was joking about getting you drunk to keep you out of trouble. But I don't want you become ill or anything. Perhaps you ought to slow down?"

Bellatrix glared at her sister and sipped.

"You've brought me to a  _Quidditch_  match where one of the teams is the very same team we attacked the night I accidentally killed my husband. You're honestly going to begrudge some gin and apple cider?"

"Well, no, I suppose not," Narcissa said thoughtfully. "It's just that… I don't want you to go down that road."

"What road?" snapped Bellatrix.

"Coping with alcohol," Narcissa said helplessly as the crowd roared about some happening in the match.

"I'm not going down any road," Bellatrix snarled. "I nearly duelled Isla Asher outside of this stadium. Either I go home or I drink these… what are these called again?"

Narcissa pinched her lips. "Autumn fizzes."

"Right. Either I go back to Malfoy Manor to get myself the bloody hell away from here, Cissy, or I just keep drinking Autumn Fizzes," Bellatrix said, taking another sip. "Because the idea of me being at a Chudley Cannons match right now is just impossibly cruel, isn't it?"

Her eyes welled heavily now. Narcissa looked apologetically to Adelaide Malfoy, who seemed quite concerned where she stood. Narcissa's face twisted with guilt, and she nodded at Bellatrix. She silently turned round to watch the match, leaving Bellatrix with her drink. Bellatrix sipped away, beginning to feel her head swim as the match continued.

The Chudley Cannons were absolutely terrible. Puddlemere scored again and again. The Cannons' Beaters' accuracy was atrocious - or perhaps the Puddlemere Chasers were quite good at evading Bludgers. In any case, the score was soon sixty to nil in favour of Puddlemere United. At one point, Puddlemere's Beater sent a Bludger flying straight into the shoulder of a Chudley Cannons Chaser. She was knocked from her broom and fell a good distance to the sand on the pitch floor below. She staggered to her feet as the crowd gasped, but she very evidently had a broken arm. She limped slowly off the pitch toward her team's Healer.

Meanwhile, Puddlemere scored again. The two Seekers went whizzing right by the box where the Malfoys and Bellatrix were seated, both of them reaching for the elusive Golden Snitch. It evaded them, flitting up and out of reach. The crowd groaned as the Seekers lost the Snitch. Bellatrix finished her third drink, beginning to feel dizzy and just a hint nauseated. The House-Elf showed up with fresh Butterbeers, for everyone else was only on Round Two. The elf gave Bellatrix another Autumn Fizz, and he had also come armed with pumpkin pasties. The crusts, Bellatrix saw, were stamped with the Puddlemere United logo. Bellatrix chewed on her pasty and sipped her fourth drink.

She was halfway through the pasty and the drink when suddenly the crowd gasped. The two Seekers were now flying vertically as quickly as they could. The Puddlemere United Seeker was far ahead, with the Chudley Seeker helplessly following. Suddenly the announcer's voice rang throughout the pitch.

"Stanley Hamilton has caught the Golden Snitch! Puddlemere United wins!"

The crowd erupted into screams and mad applause. Banners and explosions of magical confetti unfurled all over. A celebratory chant broke out between sides of the pitch.

" _Can I hear you shout Puddlemere United! (Puddlemere United!) Always Number One! (Always Number One!) We won't be divided! (We won't be divided!) Now it's time to have some fun! (Now it's time to have some fun!)"_

Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy were absolutely ecstatic about their team's win. Adelaide and Narcissa just clapped along and exchanged smiles. Bellatrix, for her part, stood where she was and felt profoundly tipsy. She found herself wondering if she could find Isla Asher again and kill her.

"Ready to go, Bella?" asked Narcissa happily.

"I want to go find Isla Asher and kill her once and for all!" Bellatrix exclaimed. Narcissa's blonde brows furrowed deeply.

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "No, no, no. You're not going to carry out a personal vendetta in public and land yourself in Azkaban. You want to make the Dark Lord angry?"

Bellatrix huffed a breath and swigged at her drink. Narcissa snatched the drink away and aimed her wand at it, Vanishing it.

"I think that is more than enough." She was red-cheeked with anger as she turned to her husband. "Lucius, we need to Disapparate from up here. She needs to get home. Now."

Lucius' gleeful grin faded a little. He saw the looks on the sisters' faces and nodded.

"Bella," said Narcissa sharply, "I shall take you by Side-Along, since you're a bit drunk."

"Thanks, anyway," Bellatrix spat. "You're the baby sister, if you don't recall. I am more than capable of Apparition."

"Fine." Narcissa crossed her arms under her traveling cloak. "Splinch yourself."

Bellatrix Disapparated without another word. She came to outside the gate of Malfoy Manor, and in a series of little  _pop-pop-pops_ , the others followed behind her. Abraxas Malfoy swiftly dismantled the wards around his house, and Bellatrix rushed through the gate and gardens and up the front stairs. Her steps were uneven and her brain was foggy from the gin.

"Bella," called Narcissa from behind her, "Don't you think you ought to thank Mr Malfoy for taking you to the match?"

Bellatrix huffed over her shoulder. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

She hurried through the foyer and up the stairs, stomping down the corridor. She was about to go up a winding flight of stairs that would take her to her quarters when she heard a voice coming from the burgundy parlour.

"Bellatrix?"

She froze. That was Lord Voldemort's voice. She shut her eyes. She'd barely spoken to him or seen him since the evening when he'd held her hand. They'd been avoiding one another, it seemed. Now his voice came clearly and confidently from the room beside her.

"Come in here, if you please."

Bellatrix opened her eyes and sighed as she walked into the parlour. She'd put on a tight black tunic and black leggings with knee-high flat boots and leather gauntlets today. She'd dressed for battle, not for Quidditch. He seemed to notice that as she stepped into the room and bowed her head. She was too tipsy to do anything more than that. He seemed to notice that bit, too. He stared at her with narrowed eyes and noted,

"You're stamping down the corridor like an angry child. Care to explain what has made you so very cross? Did Puddlemere lose the match?"

Bellatrix hesitated for a moment, and Voldemort said firmly,

"Shut the door."

She did as he commanded, wobbling on her feet as she reached for the doorknob.

"You are drunk," he observed, and she sighed.

"Too much gin, I suppose. I saw Isla Asher, Master. She confronted me. She knows it was me the night of the attack. She called me a  _lying killer_  and said she ought to arrest me. I had my wand out. I wanted to… anyway, I had a lot to drink. It was difficult, you know, seeing all the Chudley Cannons paraphernalia and seeing Isla Asher, and… I'm tipsy."

"But you are also angry." Voldemort took a step closer to her. He folded his arms over his chest. "Why are you angry?"

"Cissy and I argued," Bellatrix admitted. "I don't really remember about what. I think it was… my drinking and… Isla. I wanted to kill Isla."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "It's hardly worth going to Azkaban because you murdered Isla Asher in public, Bellatrix."

"Yes, that's what Cissy said," she mumbled. Voldemort dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and said,

"I have already lost you to grief and guilt for the time being; I will not lose you to prison."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix bowed her head again.

Voldemort stalked toward her and stared down at her. His hands moved very slowly up to her face. He cradled her jaws in his hands, and suddenly Bellatrix couldn't breathe. His hands were warm on her face, and she let out an involuntary little noise. Her body came alive from the inside out. Her cheeks flushed beneath his hands, going hot as fire. Her chest tightened, and her nipples came to attention beneath her clothes. He dragged a thumb beneath her eye, and she felt damp heat flush between her thighs instantly. Her arms tingled, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her heart sped up until it raced.

Was her master really touching her like this? Him?  _Him?_ The great and powerful and terrible Lord Voldemort? Was he truly caressing her face as he gazed into her eyes? Bellatrix's lips fell open in shock.

"I imagine today was difficult for you," he said quietly. Bellatrix blinked.

_Speak, you bloody little fool!_  her mind screamed at her.  _He's spoken to you!_

"I'm all right, My Lord," she choked out at last. He nodded, looking at her lips and then back up at her eyes.

"You are quite strong," he observed.

Bellatrix thought she would explode then. She was so wet between her legs that she could feel it soaking into her knickers. She  _wanted_  him. She shouldn't want him. He was her master, and she was in mourning. She watched his chest rise and fall deeply beneath his elegant black robes, and he said softly,

"You smell like roses."

She smiled weakly at him, unable to speak at all in response to that. He descended a little toward her and shut his eyes as he said,

"Did you know… my favourite scent in all the world is roses."

Bellatrix tried not to faint, and she breathlessly whimpered, "Is that so?"

Voldemort took a breath that seemed shakier than before. "Bella, if I am imagining something, now is the time to inform me of that."

She gulped. "Imagining something?"

He opened his eyes and stared right at her. "Something from you."

She shook her head and felt like her knees were going to give out. "You are not imagining anything."

Voldemort frowned a little, his hands tightening just a bit on Bellatrix's face.

"You are trembling," he murmured.

"Am I?" she whispered. He tipped his head.

"Are you afraid of me?"

She scoffed very quietly and nodded. "Of course I am, Master."

"Don't be afraid." He shook his head and wet his lip. "Just for this one moment."

He closed the gap between them and kissed her.

At first, he was remarkably gentle. He tilted his head to the right, so Bellatrix did the same. He brushed his lips against hers, and Bellatrix's hands flew to his shoulders. His arms slowly snaked around her body. He wrapped one hand around her neck and put the other to the small of her back. He pulled her nearer and deepened the kiss. Their lips were a little open then, their tongues pushing against one another for a moment. Voldemort pulled Bellatrix's tongue into his mouth, and she squealed softly in surprise. She marveled at the taste of him - cold, clean spearmint, as though he'd cleaned his teeth five minutes earlier. She must taste like gin, she thought distantly. Still, she opened her lips and let him in, feeling unfathomably dizzy when he dragged his tongue over the roof of her mouth.

Suddenly her back was arching and she found herself pressing her body against his, getting as close to him as she possibly could. Her arms moved to lace all the way around his shoulders, and she felt him rubbing a little at her back as he kissed her. Bellatrix whined into the kiss as Voldemort nicked her lip with his teeth, and she suddenly found herself craving more. Her hands went into his cropped grey hair as she tried to pull him as close as she possibly could, and he groaned a bit against her mouth. He finally broke the kiss, yanking his mouth from hers and pulling back, his breath coming hard and fast, like he'd run a race while kissing her.

"Master…"

The word hung in the air between them, weighty and meaningful. Voldemort huffed.

"Well. I can't say as I particularly regret that, though I certainly understand if you…"

He tailed off and shrugged, dragging a thumb over his lip. Bellatrix realised then just how tipsy she was as she wobbled on her feet. Shouldn't she be thinking of her husband? Why was she standing here on fire for her master? Why did she want another kiss? Why did she  _want_  him?

"I should go, shouldn't I?" Bellatrix suggested. Voldemort cleared his throat roughly and gave her a crisp nod.

"See you, then," he said.

Bellatrix smiles just a little and whispered,

"See you… Master."

She gave a respectful bow and turned to go, pausing at the door. She glanced over her shoulder, holding eye contact with him for a few heavy seconds. He jolted, seeming to wake up from a dream, and said,

"There will be a meeting on Monday. I'll be Summoning everyone through the Dark Mark. We'll be discussing a few Mudbloods targeted for assassination. I expect that you will be in attendance."

"Yes. Of course, My Lord." Bellatrix nodded, and he scratched at his hair.

"Right. See you, then."

She smiled weakly at him and gave him an awkward little wave. She bit her lip, turned and opened the door, and hurried out, gulping for air in the corridor as she realised what she and her master had just done.

Hours later, she sat in her bathtub with the water gone cold, reliving the kiss over and over again, and all she could think was that she wanted  _more_.

**Author's Note: They finally kissed! Took them over 20,000 words to do it, but they did it! I'm having wayyyy too much fun writing this story. Now, what's going to happen at this meeting? Will Voldemort put Bellatrix back into duty?**

**I'm so very grateful that people are reading each chapter of this story. I would really love to hear from more of those readers! If you get a quick second to leave a very brief review, I'd be extremely grateful! Thanks so much in advance.**


	9. Ready

 

 

 

On Monday morning, it flurried. It was still November, but it was uncharacteristically cold, and the snow settled over the spindly gardens like a wintry cloak. Bellatrix and Narcissa took one look at the fluttery white snow and decided they simply must go for a walk in it. Out in the gardens, the sisters moved about carefully, their boots sliding on dead grass made slick by the little bit of snow.

"Bella," Narcissa said as they moved through the hedges, "I have something to tell you. I had hoped to be giving you different news…  _good_  news… in a few weeks' time. But now I'm bleeding, so…"

"Oh, Cissy." Bellatrix sniffed a bit and looked up at her younger sister. "You've miscarried again?"

Narcissa pinched her lips and nodded. Her cheeks, already pinked by the cold, darkened with apparent embarrassment, and she murmured,

"I used to shake with sobs for days every time it happened. But I'm out of tears over this, Bella. Perhaps someday I will have a child. Perhaps someday I will be a mother. Perhaps not."

"It will happen. I'm sure of it," Bellatrix said very assuredly. Then, feeling concerned for Narcissa's well-being, she asked meaningfully, "Is Lucius cross with you?"

"No." Narcissa shook her head vehemently. "No. He's devastated, yet again. It breaks his heart every time it happens. But he isn't angry. He is so rarely angry with me."

"You are deeply in love, the two of you," Bellatrix noted, and Narcissa smiled just a little.

"You and I were very lucky that Daddy let us marry the boys we adored. Don't you think?"

Bellatrix remembered the day Rodolphus had proposed to her. It had been in the Slytherin Common Room, right in front of everyone. He'd interrupted her in the middle of conversation with four other girls, and he'd explained in mortifying detail how very much he loved her. He'd slid her engagement ring onto her finger and begged her to marry him, and Bellatrix had giggled like mad and swept him into a kiss and nodded frantically.

"Yes," she whispered to Narcissa. "We have been so lucky in that regard."

"Well." Narcissa seemed to sense that she'd triggered thoughts of Rodolphus, and she quickly changed the subject. "In far more intriguing baby-related news, Lucius received an owl last night from Rabastan Lestrange. He's accidentally put a child on Aurora Travers."

Bellatrix stopped walking, her eyes going wide and round. She gaped at Narcissa and gasped.

"Rabastan impregnated Aurora Travers? Will he marry her?"

"Almost certainly, and quickly," Narcissa nodded. "You know how Purebloods are about bastards. He won't want her caught up in scandal again; he's an honourable man."

Bellatrix scoffed in disbelief. Her brother-in-law was an unapologetic playboy, a good-natured libertine. Aurora Travers had been in school with Bellatrix. She was a lively, beautiful witch who had been married until her much-older husband had run off to France with his mistress, invalidating and voiding his marriage to Aurora. Poor Aurora had been quite the talk of Pureblood society after being abandoned by her Shacklebolt spouse. Now she was carrying Rabastan's baby outside of marriage. Bellatrix actually felt rather sorry for her about that. Aurora was a gorgeous Scottish witch with auburn waves and emerald eyes. She always seemed to be laughing. She would be a good partner for the jovial Rabastan. If he had to settle down with someone, Aurora seemed like a good option. Bellatrix determined that she would confront Rabastan about the matter at the Death Eaters' meeting scheduled for today. She had to wonder, though, why Lucius had gotten an owl about this and Bellatrix had not.

"Bella," said Narcissa, interrupting Bellatrix's thoughts, "I wanted to ask you about… about what I saw in the corridor that day after dinner?"

Bellatrix gulped. The day that Narcissa had come running out looking for Bellatrix?

"What do you think you saw?"

Narcissa dragged her perfectly white teeth over her lip. "I saw you and the Dark Lord holding hands."

"I was upset about Rodolphus," Bellatrix insisted defensively, "and he was attempting to steady me. That's all."

Narcissa looked sceptical. "So, there's nothing between the two of you?"

Bellatrix hesitated, just a split second too long. "No. There is nothing between us. He is my master, and I am his slave. I am a widow, and he was attempting to comfort me. That is all."

Narcissa nodded but said nothing. She still didn't seem terribly convinced. Bellatrix cleared her throat roughly and shook her head.

"It's freezing out here. Let's go back inside." Bellatrix turned and started to walk back toward the manor. Narcissa followed her and said in a light voice, obviously trying to ease the mood,

"I quite like your gloves, Bella. Those are lovely."

Bellatrix smiled just a little. "Thank you."

She was wearing the gloves Voldemort had Transfigured for her out of leaves in this very garden. They'd never changed back. Bellatrix was beginning to wonder if they ever would. They surely would become leaves again at some point, Bellatrix thought. Impermanence was the nature of Transfiguration. But Voldemort's magic was terribly strong, and she was going to wear these gloves until she couldn't anymore.

* * *

That evening, Bellatrix sat in the library of Malfoy Manor, reading a book about entitled  _Terrible Torture: The Cruciatus Curse._

She had a warm flannel blanket wrapped around her, and she was sipping tea with lemon and honey. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, and Bellatrix turned a page in the thick book as she hummed a little tune.

_It is entirely useless to cast the Cruciatus Curse against the Secret-Keeper of a Fidelius Charm; the Secret-Keeper must surrender their mental loot of their own volition._

Bellatrix took another sip of tea and read some more about torturing Secret-Keepers. She finished her tea and set her mug down on the table beside her, and she turned another page.

_Certain wizarding governments still utilise the Cruciatus Curse for the interrogation of arrested prisoners. This has led to immense diplomatic tensions, particularly involving wizarding countries that have heavily criminalised use of the Cruciatus._

"Well. This looks cosy."

Bellatrix started to rise from her armchair the instant she heard Lord Voldemort's voice. But as he walked into the library and shut the door, he gestured for her to stay seated. She bowed her head and lowered her eyes as he sank into the armchair opposite her.

"Master," she murmured softly.

"What are you reading?" he asked. Bellatrix shut her book and held it up with a little half smile.

" _Terrible Torture: The Cruciatus Curse,_ " she informed him. He smirked broadly, laughing a little.

"Your very favourite spell, isn't it?"

She demurred a little, setting the book down in her lap again. "I do rather enjoy it, My Lord."

He nodded, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He stared into the fire for a moment and then turned his face back to Bellatrix.

"How would you like to cast the Cruciatus Curse for me? Masked. Inside the home of a Mudblood."

Bellatrix's heart began to race. Was he going to putting her back into service? His fingers drummed again, and his brows went up expectantly. Bellatrix nodded quickly.

"I would like that very much."

He seemed thoughtful for a moment, and then he said, "I do not often go about with my Death Eaters on these missions. No use in me masking; I have nothing to hide. I am Lord Voldemort. The Ministry and the Order know who I am and they know they want me dead. So I shall be unmasked when I come with you."

Bellatrix was in shock then. "Who else will be on the mission, Master?"

He shook his head firmly. "Just you and me, Bella. I have other Mudbloods for other squads of Death Eaters. I need to supervise your return to service myself."

Bellatrix set her book on the table beside her and sat up very straight.

"What is the mission, exactly?"

Voldemort looked pleased with her then, and he nodded slowly.

"We attack at night, when the Mudblood and her partner are asleep. Disarm, Stupefy. Execute the Mudblood. Torture the partner into absolute oblivion. Leave at once. It's as simple as that."

Bellatrix felt breathless and excited… and absolutely terrified. But she gathered the strength to whisper to him,

"Thank you, My Lord."

He gave her a stern look. "You need to prove to me that I am not making a mistake putting you back into service, Bellatrix. Prove to me that you are still useful."

"I shall," Bellatrix vowed. "I promise it, Master."

"Good." Voldemort drummed his fingers once more, rather impatiently this time. "I didn't want you shocked by this news at the meeting. Now I can go ahead and Summon everyone. Put that book away; it is just about time to gather our forces."

Bellatrix obediently Banished her book to the shelf, stood and folded her flannel blanket, and decided to leave her empty mug of tea for Dobby to clean up. She watched as Voldemort pressed his pale wand to his inner left arm, and she almost instantly felt the sharp, burning sting of his Summons pulsing through her Dark Mark. Bellatrix gasped, letting her eyes roll back a little. It always felt so painful, so deliciously and wonderfully painful, to sense him through the Dark Mark. She was dizzy and panting, and when she lowered her eyes, Voldemort was eyeing her curiously. He seemed to perceive her very strong reaction to his Summons, and he rose from his chair. He walked to stand before her.

Suddenly he'd wrapped his right arm around her waist and pressed his hand to her lower back. Bellatrix stared up at him as he swiftly dipped, brushing his lips against hers and taking her by surprise with his assertive, swift movements. He murmured against her mouth,

"You like the feel of me in your Mark."

"I have always reacted strongly to your Summons, Master," Bellatrix hummed back. She pressed her palms to his chest and squeezed her fingers against the fabric of his robes. His lips were rough against hers as their breath mingled for a moment, and then he kissed her more deeply. He sucked on her lip, drawing it between his teeth. Bellatrix moaned helplessly, pulling herself up onto her tiptoes as she flushed warm and tingled. Voldemort broke from her mouth and muttered,

"I saw you walking out in the snow."

"Did you?" Bellatrix was utterly breathless, and she wanted more kisses. Her hands convulsed on his chest as he pressed his lips to hers again, but then he pulled back once more and said quietly,

"You had black gloves on. Out in the garden… you were wearing black gloves."

"They're yours," Bellatrix huffed. "They've never changed back."

Voldemort kissed her again then, so urgently that his teeth knocked Bellatrix's rather awkwardly. They quickly settled into a rhythm, though, with their tongues tangling in his mouth and then pushing into hers. He licked at her lip and sucked it, and Bellatrix felt her eyes burn as her body was consumed with want. She dared to move her hands up from his chest, reaching up to touch his face. She stroked at his cheeks with her fingertips, and he seemed to like it rather a lot. He groaned into her mouth and took a half step toward her, throwing her off balance. Bellatrix stumbled backward, and Voldemort swept her closer with one arm round the small of her back.

Bellatrix had scarcely thought of Rodolphus these past few days. Ever since Voldemort had first kissed her, Rodolphus had barely entered her mind. Did that make her wicked and terrible, she wondered? Shouldn't she be at her husband's graveside, Conjuring flowers and crying? Instead she was locked into a kiss with her master again, and this time she was craving things that she would have never imagined wanting from Lord Voldemort.

He pulled away, his lips swollen and wet. He stared down at Bellatrix, looking like a starving man eyeing food. He wanted more. She could tell; she could read his hunger. She felt firmness against her belly and knew he'd come alive the same way she'd done. Bellatrix considered, for a brief moment, reaching down between them and fondling his erection through his robes. Would he like that? Would he like her touch on his cock, even through fabric? What did that part of him look like? What would it feel like, bare in her hand? Her cheeks flamed hot at the very idea of touching him there, and suddenly she was throbbing and wet between her own legs. She did want him, she thought. She wanted him far more than she ought to.

Voldemort took a few steps back and licked his lip, carefully putting his hands in front of the bulge in his robes. His high cheekbones were splotched scarlet, and even his ears were pink as he noted,

"I've already Summoned everyone. They'll be here any moment. You need to go out to the meeting room. Now."

Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut and tried to gather herself. Finally she nodded and opened her eyes, heading for the door.

"Yes, Master," she mumbled, still feeling like she was on fire.

In the meeting room, she found Rabastan, who had arrived quickly at the Summons. Bellatrix walked through the meeting room and went straight for Rabastan, who slowly stood as she approached.

"Hullo." He wrapped her up into an embrace. "I hear you've been doing a bang-up job of coming to terms with things. I can't say how happy I am to hear that you're getting on all right, Bellatrix. I was so worried over you when it happened. Lucius says you've been well, all things considered."

Bellatrix pinched her lips and hissed, "Yes, well. Narcissa says  _you_  have news."

Rabastan's cheeks darkened, and he nodded. "It's true. Aurora Travers. She's already ten weeks along. We were drunk and careless. I feel a complete fool for it, but it is what it is."

Bellatrix let her features soften. "I'm sorry. You have to marry her?"

"I  _get_  to marry her," Rabastan corrected. "Aurora's a marvelous girl. We'll have a small Christmas wedding. We don't expect many in attendance."

"Well, I shall be there," Bellatrix insisted, and Rabastan gave her a crooked smile, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. Bellatrix asked him seriously, "You're not terribly unhappy?"

"I'm surprisingly happy, Bellatrix," Rabastan said, shaking his head slowly and looking peaceful. " Aurora is the most wonderful witch. And the idea of being a father… I've more than made peace. Ever since Dolph died, I feel like I have to live every second as fully as I can. So I mean to live… as a husband and a father. Happily."

"Happily ever after." Bellatrix flashed him a little smile. Rabastan nodded seriously.

"And you promise you'll be there? At the wedding?"

"Wouldn't be anywhere else, Rabastan," Bellatrix sighed. Her attention shifted, then, as everyone else in the meeting room flew to their feet. The Dark Lord had come into the room. Bellatrix scrambled to her seat and stood at attention. Voldemort went to the head of the table and stood in silence for a moment, then sat. The Death Eaters slid into their own chairs, and then there was more silence.

"Rabastan Lestrange," said Voldemort, folding his hands on the table. Rabastan sat up very straight, as though he thought he were in serious trouble and punishment was coming. Bellatrix feared that for her brother-in-law, given what Rabastan had done to Aurora Travers. But Voldemort tipped his head and said,

"Congratulations on your engagement to Aurora Travers."

Rabastan looked utterly shocked, his chestnut eyes wide. He nodded frantically and stammered,

"Th-Thank you, Master."

Voldemort nodded. "You shall hold the wedding at five o'clock on the sixteenth of December, location to be held secret until the day of the marriage. Work with me privately to establish details."

Rabastan just kept bobbing his head frantically in assent, and Bellatrix read surprise on the faces of the other Death Eaters. Voldemort continued,

"This is a wedding between two established Pureblood families; there will be no social exclusion - nor any lack of attendance - solely due to less-than-ideal circumstances. Understood?"

Everyone nodded and mumbled that they understood. Everyone was invited, and everyone was to attend. Voldemort was sending a message with Rabastan's wedding. A Pureblood baby conceived out of wedlock to parents who then married was a Pureblood baby just the same. This marriage was just as sacred and valid as any other. And so everyone was invited, and everyone was to attend.

Bellatrix thought of how Rodolphus wouldn't be at his own brother's wedding. Rabastan had served as Best Man at Rodolphus' wedding to Bellatrix. He'd been an integral part of the day. If Rodolphus were still here, he would surely be an important part of Rabastan's wedding.

But Rodolphus wasn't here. Rodolphus was gone. Forever. And for some reason, that fact made Bellatrix feel numb where she sat, instead of inducing panic the way it had done before.

"We will be carrying out the following mission tomorrow night. Mudbloods are to be targeted in pairs. In most cases, only one of the couple is a Mudblood, and that is the person we'll be killing. The spouse of the Mudblood is the one to be tortured," Voldemort was saying. Bellatrix snapped her attention back to him. Everyone around the room buzzed silently with excitement at the news of a new mission. Voldemort continued,

"I have here parchments with the names and addresses of couples. The name with a star beside it is the Mudblood. Enter the homes at night, silently. Disarm, fight if necessary. Kill the Mudbloods. Torture the spouses. Be sure you're masked. Right… Avery and Mulciber? You shall be going to Fife."

He flicked his wand and sent a pair of parchments fluttering across the room. Avery and Mulciber caught them, reading their assignments. Voldemort sent two more papers flying and announced,

"Crabbe and Goyle, you'll be headed to Kent. Yaxley and Lucius Malfoy, you're on to York."

Lucius snatched his parchment out of the air just before it flew by him, and he nodded obediently at his master, who said quite crisply,

"And Bellatrix and I will be going to Edinburgh."

People stared at Voldemort then. Silent disbelief fell weightily over the meeting. He was going on a mission with Bellatrix? Could she possibly be ready for a mission? Their master was going alone with her? Voldemort ignored all of their gawking.

"Any questions about this mission?" Voldemort asked lightly, and Mulciber hesitantly raised his hand.

"My Lord, it says here that the Baxters may or may not have a daughter."

Voldemort nodded. "It is unclear from our intelligence whether or not their twenty-year-old daughter lives at home. I trust you can handle her if she's there."

Mulciber glanced at Avery and then back at Voldemort.

"Shall we kill her or merely torture her, Master?"

"I leave that to your discretion in the situation," Voldemort said snappily. "Any other questions?"

"Master, our parchment notes that another wizard lives nearby this couple and to be careful. Do we have more information about that wizard?" Lucius Malfoy seemed quite concerned as he dragged his fingers over his parchment. Voldemort smirked.

"He's mostly deaf and is sympathetic to the cause of blood purity. Just the same, he could serve as a witness. Don't take him out unless it is strictly necessary, but be extra cautious entering and leaving the house. Don't take your masks off for even a moment."

Everyone was very quiet then, and Bellatrix just stared at her master. She studied his face and suddenly found him more desirable than she'd ever found him in all the years that she'd known him. His pale, criss-crossing scars now seemed like stamps of honour that he'd earned. His uneven eyes were intriguing. His snarling lip was properly menacing. Bellatrix gulped as she studied him -  _wanted_  him - and she flinched when he flicked his eyes to her. She was taken back to the library, to the way he'd drawn her up in his arms and kissed her like mad. She shut her eyes and let out a shaking breath and she imagined the feel of his firm erection on her belly.

"I shall assume that no news is good news," Voldemort was saying sharply. "Send me an owl, or have one sent to me, if something goes wrong. Otherwise, await my Summons for another meeting a week from today. I look forward to reading of your exploits in the  _Daily Prophet._  Serve me well. Dismissed."

Bellatrix opened her eyes and watched as Death Eaters began to rise from their chairs and walk out of the meeting room, murmuring in interest to one another about what was to happen. Bellatrix tried to stand, but she was rather frozen by the way she'd become so consumed by Lord Voldemort. She glanced to her side as Rabastan walked over to her and smiled down at her.

"S'pose I shall be seeing you at my wedding, after all. You and everyone else, apparently."

"Oh, it'll be wonderful, Rabastan. I'm really looking forward to it," Bellatrix said, forcing a little grin. Rabastan was more serious then as he said sadly,

"I wish he was going to be there. I wish he could take you to my wedding and dance all night with you."

Bellatrix's lips parted helplessly, and she felt her eyes well. A sharp voice from behind her snapped harshly,

"The meeting is dismissed, Mr Lestrange."

"Master." Rabastan bowed, deeply and respectfully. He muttered with a nod, "Bellatrix."

Then he hurried away, out of the room, and Bellatrix watched him go. Her ears felt hot, and she wasn't sure quite why. She stood slowly and chewed her lip, walking around the table and heading for the door.

"Bella."

She stopped, turning round to face him. She smiled weakly at Voldemort, who glared at her.

"Are you ready for this? To serve me again? Are you ready to cast Unforgivables for me again?"

She nodded, then realised she was telling the truth. She really was ready to torture and kill again. She'd been ready at the Puddlemere United match, when Narcissa had said she'd land herself in Azkaban.

"You never read your assignment parchment," said Voldemort, and he flicked his wand, sending a small parchment fluttering off the table toward Bellatrix. She caught the parchment as her heart sped up, and when she opened the folded parchment, she read,

_23 Canaan Lane, Edinburgh_

_Abram Newgrange_

_Isla Asher *_

Bellatrix just stared at the parchment for a very long while. Her stomach lurched and her eyes seared. Isla Asher was a Mudblood? Bellatrix was going to break into Isla Asher's house in the middle of the night and kill her, then torture her partner? Isla Asher would be dead at Bellatrix's hand, once and for all? This felt like avenging Rodolphus. It felt like the sweetest revenge imaginable. This felt like duty, like the perfect sort of service. She lifted her gaze and stared at Voldemort.

"Master," she said very firmly, "I swore to serve you forever. I made one hideous, terrible mistake. But there is a way forward, and I have found it."

He rose and walked slowly toward her.

"Have you?" he asked, and she nodded as she fingered the parchment. She stared up at him, her chin sticking up with a vaguely defiant sort of determination.

"My way forward is serving you," she said. "That has always been my way forward."

He stared down at her and reached for her, brushing his knuckles slowly along her jaw. In his dark eyes, she read want and conflict and something deeper and more elusive. He sighed and pulled his hand from her and declared,

"If I kiss you again, Bella, I won't stop."

She tried to catch her breath at that, tried to steady herself on the legs that had gone wobbly. She stared up at him and said nothing. He looked like he meant to reach for her again, but he caught himself and gnawed his lip before he said,

"I shall see you tomorrow. My office, seven o'clock in the evening. Come dressed for combat."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix whispered. Her hands were itching to touch him, to clutch at his robes and crash into another blistering kiss like the one they'd shared in the library before the meeting. She wanted more of him, very badly.

But he pulled himself away, wincing as though it physically pained him to separate from her. He stalked more deliberately then, moving a bit more briskly toward the door. He glanced over his shoulder just as he left the room, and Bellatrix felt her chest clutch as his eyes met hers.

Once he'd gone, she sank back into one of the chairs at the table, reading the parchment with Isla Asher's name, remembering the way Voldemort had kissed her in the library, and feeling profoundly overwhelmed.

**Author's Note: WHEW! Sorry about the length of this chapter; it ran away from me just a little bit. So, in the next chapter, we'll get to see Bellatrix in action again. And we'll get to see Voldemort's reaction to that. Will actual naughtiness ensue?**

**There's a ton to unpack in this chapter, from Narcissa's miscarriages and the fact that she suspects there's "something" between Bellatrix and Voldemort to that fierce kiss in the library, from Rabastan's scandal and upcoming marriage to Bellatrix's particular assignment to kill Isla Asher. I would absolutely love your feedback on all of this. I'm so very grateful for those who have reviewed so far. Thank you for reading!**


	10. Revenge

It was spitting cold rain in Edinburgh. Bellatrix and Voldemort walked together up to a row of single-storey houses on a quiet street, and Bellatrix wished she'd worn her waterproof cloak. A Muggle automobile went puttering by on the cobblestones, and she hid her masked face as rain drummed upon the metal.

A stray dog limped by, soaked through with rain, and Bellatrix felt quite sorry for it. She'd always had a soft spot for animals that she'd never had for people or House-Elves. She was tempted to heal whatever was making the dog heave in its steps, to craft it some sort of shelter, but they didn't have time for that. Instead, she followed Voldemort down the sidewalk to Number 23, a pain white attached house with chipped paint on the shutters.

Voldemort was careful and quiet as he began to dismantle the wards the Isla Asher, a skilled Auror, had bound up round her house. Bellatrix watched in awe, knowing it would have taken her an hour to get the wards down. But Voldemort had the place opened like a book in less than a minute. He nonverbally unlocked the front door and pushed it open, stepping confidently over the threshold into the house. Bellatrix followed and closed the front door as quietly as she possibly could.

Isla Asher's house was tidy but very cramped and small. Bellatrix and Voldemort had stepped inside and immediately found themselves between a tiny sitting room and a bitsy kitchen with a table around which there were mismatched chairs. Bellatrix frowned and wondered just what sort of salary Aurors received during the war. What did Abram Newgrange, her partner, do for a living, she wondered? She curled up her lip as she and Voldemort held their wands out before them and began to pad down the narrow corridor.

"Abram, did you hear that?" hissed a voice from the bedroom at the end of the hall. Bellatrix and Voldemort froze. Voldemort quickly gestured for Bellatrix to back out into the sitting room, and she knew why. They would need more space; the corridor would just serve as a trap. Bellatrix braced herself for a fight and trotted briskly back out into the small, ugly sitting room.

It had furniture that was clearly used, gathered from various sources. Bellatrix glanced quickly at the lamps and tables that had obviously been bought second-hand. She aimed her wand at a sconce on the wall and lit it, for she was hardly in the mood to fight in the pitch black. She was going to fight on her own terms.

Suddenly Isla Asher and Abram Newgrange appeared in the threshold of the sitting room. Isla was wearing a short, silky white nightgown - probably not anything she'd intended to be seen in. Abram had on pyjama trousers but no shirt. They both had their wands extended, their eyes wide and terrified as they realised Lord Voldemort himself was inside their home.

" _Expelliarmus! Stupefy!_ " bellowed Voldemort, and his spells his Abram one by one. Abram rocketed backward against the doorjamb, unconscious, as his wand soared through the air. Voldemort caught the wand and nodded. Abram was ready now to be tortured when the time was right.

Isla whipped her own wand toward Bellatrix and shrieked,

" _Stupefy!"_

Bellatrix easily blocked the spell with a powerful Shield Charm as blue sparks flew around the room. She smirked beneath her mask. Little fool. Why wasn't Isla getting more daring than a Stunning Spell? Didn't she realise she was about to die?

"You can take off that bloody stupid mask, Bellatrix!" Isla yelled. "You think I don't know it's you under there?"

She sent a nonverbal Stunning Spell zipping toward Bellatrix then, but Bellatrix blocked it once more and shook her head.

"Soon enough, it won't matter what you know, Isla. You've cheated your way out of death once. It will not happen again."

Isla narrowed her eyes. " _Flipendo Duo!_ "

Bellatrix had to bend her back and fall to her knees to dodge the charged Knockback Jinx, which hit the window behind her, shattering the glass. She flicked her eyes to Voldemort. Why didn't he just quickly execute Isla Asher? Suddenly Bellatrix knew. He was standing at the ready, calm and prepared to intervene, but Isla was Bellatrix's prey.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Bellatrix screamed the spell from where she knelt, so quickly and so definitively, that she couldn't possibly give herself time to think of Rodolphus, or to second-guess her decision to cast it. The vibrant blast of green light that erupted from her wand was so blinding that Bellatrix blinked and couldn't see for a moment. When her vision came back at last, she watched Isla smash against the wallpaper and crumple to the floor. A framed cross-stitch was knocked loose by the impact. It fell from its nail and careened down onto Isla's shoulder awkwardly. A vase of wilting flowers was shaken loose from the table nearby and fell to the floor, smashing into smithereens.

Bellatrix stared at Isla's face as realisation washed over her that the witch was dead. Bellatrix remembered the way Isla had Disapparated at the last second after twisting away from her Killing Curse. She remembered the way that Killing Curse had continued straight on its course and had hit Rodolphus instead. Isla had earned this, Bellatrix thought. They'd both earned this. Isla had come to the death she'd been meant to have, and Bellatrix had exacted the revenge she'd needed.

She began to laugh, softly at first and then more maniacally until her giggles echoed under her metal mask.

"Cast your Cruciatus Curse on the wizard," said Voldemort sharply. Bellatrix took a gathering breath and nodded.

"Yes, Master."

She was shaking with energy as she turned on Abram Newgrange's unmoving form, aiming her wand at him and muttering,

" _Rennervate._ "

He mumbled a few words and started to wake up. Slowly, he turned his face to Isla, and he began to panic as he saw her slumped among the ruins of the vase with the fallen cross-stitch lying in her lap.

"Isla?" Abram crawled over to her and shook her shoulders. Isla's hair fell over her eyes, and when Abram pulled it back, Isla was staring blankly ahead with parted lips. Abram began to panic, shaking her again and slapping her cheek lightly as though she would wake.

Bellatrix let him have his moment of frenzied realisation. After all, she had had to go through this with Rodolphus because of Isla. Once Abram began cradling Isla into his chest and sobbing, Bellatrix aimed her wand at him and struck.

" _CRUCIO!_ "

A ruby red hiss of light streamed from her wand and snared around Abram Newgrange. He began to convulse at once, as though her were in the midst of a fit. He dropped Isla and fell beside her, both of them lying on the ground. Isla was still and staring whilst Abram was shaking and shouting. His screams were so violent that Voldemort smoothly uttered a Silencing Charm. Then it was strange, because Abram's mouth broke open widely into a great shriek of pain and terror, but he emitted no noise.

Bellatrix held the spell for minutes that felt like hours. She grew shaky and tired from the effort, but she kept her arm up and powered through the Unforgivable Curse as Abram shook and writhed. He wrestled with an invisible enemy, clutching at his hair, at the ground. He scratched the bare flesh of his own chest and arms. His face twisted and contorted, going scarlet and then violet. His teeth ground and gnashed. And all the while, dead Isla just stared where she lay.

"Time for us to go." Voldemort put his hand on Bellatrix's shoulder, and she broken the spell. Abram Newgrange collapsed to the ground, panting heavily and then eventually not moving at all except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Isla just stared, very evidently dead.

"Bella," Voldemort purred softly, bending until his lips were near her ear, "Very well done. I mean it."

She shivered and shut her eyes for a moment. Then she followed him out the front door of the house, back out into the cold rain. She watched as he raised his pale wand skyward and incanted,

" _Morsmordre!_ "

The spell of his own making was silk from his lips in the rainy night air. A shimmering cascade of silvery green sparks soared up from his wand, tattooing the sky with his Dark Mark. Let everyone know they had been here, that they had done this.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix shivered as she walked with him through the gardens. She was wet and cold, and her mask only made that worse. She pulled it off and said in a trembling voice,

"She's dead. That awful bitch is finally dead, and I did it."

"So you did." Voldemort flashed her a happy little look.

"Rodolphus is dead because of her," Bellatrix continued forcefully as they neared the steps, "and now I've killed her."

She paused on the stairs, shaking like a leaf and nearly dropping her mask and wand. She wrenched her eyes shut, thinking of the night of the Chudley Cannons attack, thinking of how much she'd hated Isla Asher, thinking of how grateful she was to have killed her. Voldemort just let her stand there for a while, until he said in a slightly stilted voice,

"I am rather freezing my ears off, so if you don't mind, perhaps we might go inside."

"Of course, Master." Bellatrix nodded and walked with him into the house. They climbed the stairs in the foyer and walked down the corridor that led to his office, and the heat inside the manor felt very fine indeed.

"Well," Bellatrix said as they approached his office, "No news is good news? I hope you don't hear from the others, then, Master."

"Quite so." He sounded a little distant, a little distracted, as they came to his office. Bellatrix stopped with him, no longer shaking from the cold. She sighed and asked him,

"Master, have I made you proud of me again? Have I proven my usefulness to you?"

His features softened, his expression warming significantly.

"Oh, yes, Bella," he said. "You served me most excellently tonight. I am very happy."

There was a long silence between them then, and they just stared at one another. Bellatrix took a little step toward him, unable to help herself, and she watched his fingers clench and release. Then he reached behind him and opened his office door a little, still facing her.

"Come inside," he said. "Have a drink. To… celebrate a successful mission."

She smirked a bit. "Just one drink?"

At last he smiled. "Just one drink. I should think we have earned it."

They stepped into his intimidating office, Bellatrix's heart picking up speed as the door shut behind her. He moved ahead of her brisky and suggested,

"Firewhisky?"

Bellatrix scoffed and shook her head vigorously. "I can never get more than a sip of that stuff down."

"Well, good; you'll go slowly, in that case." Voldemort grinned at her. He went to his drinks cart and opened a bottle of Blishen's, pouring them each a tumbler. He came to stand before his desk and handed Bellatrix her drink. She sheathed her wand and set her mask on his desk so that she could take the glass. He moved to lean back against the desk so that he was half-standing, half-sitting, and Bellatrix stood before him. They'd never been like this - almost relaxed, the two of them. It was oddly satisfying. Voldemort swirled his firewhisky in his glass and held it up a little.

"To a mission most successfully completed, to service most dutifully rendered, and to revenge most sweetly taken."

Bellatrix's stomach clenched at that, and she smiled shyly. She held up her own glass and added,

"To the glory and victory of the Dark Lord."

He cocked up an eyebrow and curled up half his mouth. "Cheers."

He drank from his glass, and Bellatrix girded herself before taking a little sip. She winced at once, feeling the fiery burn of the firewhisky the second it hit her mouth. Her throat tightened and she could barely breathe. How did anyone actually enjoy this stuff? She coughed and sputtered like a schoolgirl new to drinking, and Voldemort laughed uproariously at her.

"Oh, it's awful," Bellatrix lamented.

"You get used to it," Voldemort asserted.

"How?" Bellatrix laughed. He took another drink, as if to mock her, and then said calmly,

"By sipping it slowly whilst staring into flame and mulling over very serious political matters."

She giggled a bit. "Is that how you got used to it, My Lord?"

He sipped again. "Mmm-hmm."

Bellatrix took another small sip and choked out a bark of a laugh as she felt the horrid burn once more. She shook her head.

"Oh, I don't suppose I shall be getting used to it tonight."

Voldemort smoothly took her drink from her hand and set it down on his desk, and then he set his own drink beside hers. He stared at her for a moment, and she gazed into his eyes. One of them drooped a little. That eye was covered with a slightly cloudy film, she could see. She wondered whether he had a vision problem in that eye. Did he have secret glasses that he only wore in private? Was he blind in that eye? And why on Earth did Bellatrix find him so devilishly handsome despite his many flaws?

"Bellatrix."

She nodded quickly, jarred from her thoughts. Voldemort's throat bobbed.

"I am very happy with you. With… with how you fought tonight."

"I am so glad to have pleased you," Bellatrix said a bit breathlessly. "All I ever want to do is please you."

"Is that so?" His voice was almost inaudible then. Bellatrix moved closer to him on instinct, standing between his legs. He moved quickly then, and more assertively than he'd done in the past. He reached to hold her face in his hands, and he quickly bent just a little to close the gap between them.

He kissed her deeply at once, drawing her lip into his mouth and urging her to twine her tongue with his. Bellatrix's ears rang and her mind swam as the kiss quickly became urgent. Her hands went to Voldemort's thighs - a place she never would have dreamed of touching him - and her fingertips sank into his muscle. He grunted into the kiss at that, and his own hands flew to Bellatrix's body. He began searching her all over. One hand clutched her breast through her tunic whilst the other hand grasped at her backside. Then he was dragging fingers up her ribcage and down her arm. He kissed her so hard that Bellatrix could feel her lips bruising, and she didn't care one bit. She came alive from the inside out,  _wanting_  him, and she boldly let her hands trail up his legs untils he reached the buttons of his trousers.

Voldemort hissed against her mouth, and his hands clenched tightly on her waist and hip. Bellatrix mumbled onto his lips,

"Shall I stop, Master?"

"No," he replied simply.

Bellatrix shut her eyes and unbuttoned his trousers by feel, yanking them down a little to give her more room. She shoved his outer robes aside and then reached into his trousers, pulling out the firm erection inside.

Then she froze.

He was large. Quite large. She didn't want to think of Rodolphus right now. The very  _last_  thing she wanted to do was to think of Rodolphus right now. And she'd always been perfectly happy in bed with Rodolphus. But she couldn't help but compare in her mind, and Voldemort was larger. Bellatrix scowled. She mentally gave Rodolphus a kiss goodbye, promised to think of him sometime soon when she wasn't involved in something like this, and shoved away the idea of him.

"Bella, are you… all right?" Voldemort sounded just a little self-conscious as Bellatrix stood in silent consternation with his cock in her hand. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, nodding very firmly.

"I'm fine, Master."

She stood close to him and started to caress his manhood, feeling utterly shocked at herself for what she was doing. She'd killed tonight, but this was far more shocking.

He was uncut, so fondling him was easy. She stared at his cock for a moment, then up at his face, examining his scars and features before meeting his eyes and holding his gaze. She used both hands then, moving them carefully. One of her hands fondled his balls delicately, weighing them and moving them in her palm. Meanwhile, her other hand pumped with just a little twist, paying close attention to the tip. Every time she neared the tip, he flinched and let out a shaking breath. Bellatrix smirked and dragged her thumb over the tip a few times, feeling dew on the pad of her thumb as Voldemort's body responded to her ministrations. His hands clutched at the edge of his desk, going white-knuckled, and his boots scraped the floors.

He began to pant and tip his head back, so Bellatrix sped up her motions. She moved both hands onto him, dedicating one hand to the worship of his tip whilst the other pumped his shaft. Voldemort's hips bucked toward her a little, and his cheeks darkened. His chest rose and fell quickly, and his throat bobbed rather desperately. Bellatrix, for her part, was wet and throbbing and hungry. But she knew she'd have to find satisfaction alone in bed tonight. Somehow, she was looking forward to that. She'd certainly have fodder for touching herself.

Suddenly her face had been snatched by warm hands and yanked against Voldemort's face. He pulled her into a kiss, smashing his lips against hers and groaning like a feral animal. Bellatrix felt an eruption of fluids all over hands and realised he was kissing her through his orgasm. He broke the kiss, his eyes rolled back, and she breathlessly looked down to see that her hands and his trousers were covered in come. After what felt like an interminable and awkward while, Voldemort pulled out his wand and aimed it at the mess.

" _Tergeo,_ " he incanted in a low, authoritative voice. " _Scourgify._ "

His come was cleaned away, leaving Bellatrix's hands freshened. She took a small step back, wondering just what the blazes she'd done. She was still immensely aroused, which felt a bit off for some reason. She watched as Voldemort tucked his softening cock away and buttoned his trousers. The room felt heavy; the silence was absolutely deafening.

"Thank you," mumbled Voldemort. "I enjoyed that."

Bellatrix just nodded. She was still tingling with desire from head to toe, but she wasn't certain of what to do with it. Voldemort pinched his lips and seemed to consider something.

"Shall I… erm… would you like me to…"

He was offering to touch her, Bellatrix realised. Very suddenly, she was socked by an unwanted memory of Rodolphus. She remembered a time when they'd been lying together in bed after sex. Dolph had finished and Bellatrix hadn't, so he had his fingers burrowed between her thighs and his lips at her ear.  _Do you have any idea how much I love you, Bells?_  he'd whispered.

Bellatrix gasped, and silent tears began streaming down her cheeks at once. She clapped a hand to her mouth and shook her head. She watched as realisation came over Voldemort's face. He folded his arms and nodded. He stood upright, moving toward the door.

"Your service tonight was performed perfectly, Madam Lestrange. I am quite happy with the way you behaved in a combat situation, all things considered. You have done me proud. Await my Summons for our next meeting."

Bellatrix felt like she was being torn in a thousand directions then. She was in mourning. She had loved Rodolphus with every fibre of her being. She loved him still. She always would. He'd been a good, valiant soldier and an adoring, sweet-hearted husband. Tonight she had avenged his death. But the wizard before her, the master smelling of books and leather, with his mysterious face and his fascinating life and his unlimited power, made her come alive. She couldn't help wanting him, craving him in so many ways. She couldn't help it if she'd enjoyed what she'd done to him tonight, if she'd liked touching him. It was difficult to regret something so pleasurable.

She stared up at Voldemort where they stood near the door, and she whispered,

"I am not sorry, Master."

He sank his teeth into his lip. "Good. Neither am I."

He bent to kiss her forehead carefully, brushing some still-damp curls away from her face.

"You forgot your mask," he mumbled, and he reached out his right hand. He wandlessly, nonverbally Summoned her mask from his desk, and after it flew into his hand, he gave it to her. She gratefully accepted it and marveled at his ridiculous skill with magic. Voldemort was studying her, she could feel, so she raised her eyes to him. He said seriously,

"Have you any notion of how beautiful you are? I'm certain you have been told that a thousand time over by wizards, but I feel rather compelled to contribute my opinion on the matter."

Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she just shook her head helplessly. He sniffed lightly and pinched his lips.

"Get some rest. You worked hard tonight. Go get the sleep you have earned."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix could scarcely hear her own whisper then. She reached for the door, ready to leave. But Voldemort asked from behind her,

"Bellatrix. Did those gloves turn back into leaves yet?"

She smiled a little with her hand on the doorknob, shaking her head.

"Not yet, My Lord."

"Hmm. Perhaps they never will," he mused. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, My Lord." Bellatrix opened the door and left, heading for her quarters and wondering just what sort of a witch she was.

**Author's Note: Ding, Dong, Isla Asher's dead! And we had a lemony-fresh scene between Bellatrix and Voldemort. But it's obvious Bellatrix is still seriously struggling with some memories of and loyalty to Rodolphus. In the next chapter, we'll flash forward a few weeks. Mwah hahaha.**

**Thank you SO MUCH to those who have left such helpful and informative feedback. I really appreciate it more than I can say! I would love to hear your opinion on chapter length in this story. I have been averaging much longer chapters than in previous stories. Should I split them into two chapters, or are you enjoying the longer bursts? Let me know! Thanks!**


	11. Cream Puff

"I look silly."

"You do not look silly; you look absolutely beautiful."

Bellatrix stared into the mirror where she sat in Narcissa's boudoir and frowned. She'd opted for a low-cut gown of black silk with Grecian-style crisscrossed silver ribbon on the bodice. Narcissa had styled her curls into a rather ridiculous updo with silver ribbon twined round the curls. Bellatrix wore her diamond pendant and diamond stud earrings from Rodolphus to complete her look. For her part, Narcissa looked gorgeous in silver lace with her hair down in silky waves.

"I can't believe the wedding is here at the manor," Bellatrix mused. They'd been informed just the day before that Rabastan's wedding was being held at Malfoy Manor. It was the largest space for an indoor winter wedding where the entire community had been invited. It was also by far the most secure space, warded up like a prison against enemies.

Whilst the girls were getting ready, final preparations were being made downstairs. Aurora had been given the burgundy parlour to dress in her wedding gown. Bellatrix tipped her head and wondered aloud,

"D'you think Aurora will wear a gown designed to disguise her bump? It's got to be a little bit obvious now, don't you think?"

Narcissa twined her hands together and mumbled,

"I find I don't much care what Aurora does to hide whatever baby bump she's managed to accumulate."

Bellatrix turned round on her boudoir stool.

"Oh, Cissy. I'm so sorry. How insensitive of me. It must be awful for you, seeing people cradling their newborns, walking around with round bellies."

Narcissa looked like she was going to cry, and she shrugged.

"Lucius says we should take a little break from trying. So we can just relax and be married for a little while. But that's a secret."

Bellatrix mimed stitching her lips shut. "Your secret is safe with me. And I think Lucius is right. You could use a break from worrying over it. Give yourself a few months to just be with him."

Narcissa straightened her back and tipped her chin up bravely. "Tonight I mean to drink Champagne and dance with him. And there's  _me_  being insensitive, because I am not the one who has to attend my brother-in-law's wedding without my husband. Sorry, Bella."

Bellatrix winced, her mind filling with flashes of Rodolphus.

"A difficult occasion for us both, then," she said softly. She rose from the boudoir bench and joked sourly, "You know what Mummy would tell us to do if she heard us complaining.  _Soldier on, girls._ "

Narcissa giggled wildly at that and said,

"D'you remember when I was six or seven and I was climbing a tree and fell from it? I broke my arm and the Healer was on his way, and Mummy just kept telling me to  _soldier on_. I thought you were going to punch her in the jaw."

"She is ridiculous," Bellatrix grumbled.

"Well, you're a real soldier now," Narcissa noted. "Soldier on, Bella."

Bellatrix thought about the fact that the past few weeks of soldiering had been rather dull and quiet. The attacks on the Mudbloods had dominated the  _Daily Prophet_  for a solid week. The Wizarding Wireless had droned on about it all ad nauseam. The Ministry appeared to have gone into panic mode about it, issuing emergency protective measures. Voldemort had been quite pleased at the debriefing meeting. But they'd gone quiet after that.

Bellatrix had spent her time in pensive solitude, for the most part. She had taken a few trips to Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley to Christmas shop. She needed gifts for Narcissa, Lucius, Abraxas and Adelaide Malfoy, and her parents. There would be no gift for Rodolphus this year.

She'd seen Voldemort only in passing. He'd been at dinner a few times. He'd stared at Bellatrix as the others talked, and he'd conversed quietly with her about light, meaningless topics. One time, he'd come into the library when she'd been reading. He'd asked about her gloves, which were still leather, and he'd seemed fascinated by the permanence of his own Transfiguration work. But he hadn't put his hands on Bellatrix, nor had he kissed her, since the night she'd killed Isla Asher.

"I wonder if they'll wear tuxedo robes today," Bellatrix thought out loud.

"Who?" Narcissa asked. "Abraxas and Lucius? I've already told Lucius that he hasn't a choice; this is a formal event."

"Right," Bellatrix nodded. "And what about the Dark Lord?"

Narcissa's pale brows furrowed in confusion. Why would her sister care what Lord Voldemort wore to a wedding? Bellatrix quickly dug herself a deeper hole.

"He despises bow ties, so…"

"How do you know  _that?_ " snapped Narcissa.

Bellatrix's cheeks went warm. "He told me so. At Cecilia's wedding. No. Wait. Before it. Anyway. He finds them constricting, but he wears them when he hasn't a choice. I presume he'll be in tuxedo robes like the rest of the wizards."

Narcissa gave Bellatrix a very odd look, and her eyes narrowed. Bellatrix's cheeks were searing hot now.

"Let's go downstairs," she insisted. "You're a hostess of this manor. Wouldn't do to be late."

Down in the ballroom, the chairs had been arranged into two neat columns with a decorated platform and podium at the front. Narcissa and Lucius were seated with Abraxas and Adelaide Malfoy in the second row, because they were the hosts of Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix took a seat further back, next to an old Slytherin classmate, Zeus Selwyn, and his pretty wife, a Ravenclaw whose name Bellatrix couldn't remember.

"Hullo, Bellatrix," Zeus grunted, and that was that. He didn't say anything else, choosing instead to talk quietly to his wife. Now Bellatrix could see why Rodolphus had never closely associated with Zeus in school. He was as interesting and personable as a brick.

The aisle seat beside Bellatrix was empty, and she imagined Rodolphus sitting there. She imagined chatting with him the way Zeus Selwyn was chatting with his wife. She brushed her fingers over the chair and sucked on her lip, remembering a wedding she'd attended with Rodolphus where her husband had made her silently laugh through the entire ceremony by whispering into her ear. He'd mocked everything and everyone until Bellatrix had commanded him to stop by pinching his thigh and giggling, earning them both the glares of the bride's parents. She smiled a bit at the memory of Rodolphus' impish behaviour. She'd always liked that about him.

"He's coming! Get up!" hissed Zeus' Ravenclaw wife. Bellatrix turned to see Voldemort stalking into the ballroom, and she flew to her feet with all the others. Everyone stood in respectful silence as Voldemort nodded to acknowledge a few of his closest associates. He was indeed wearing tuxedo robes with a neat black bow tie. His eyes settled on Bellatrix, then on the empty chair beside her. He swept wordlessly into that chair, sitting down and clearing his throat. Bellatrix was immensely confused as she took her own seat with everyone else.

"Master," she whispered, as conversation buzzed around her, "I would have expected you to sit up front, as is your right."

He turned his head toward her, his expression blank. "I shall sit where I damn well please. Have you some objection to my presence?"

She shook her head. "Of course not."

He smirked. "Good. Glad that's settled."

He tugged a bit at his bow tie, and Bellatrix struggled then to keep a straight face. Voldemort glared at her, tipping his head, and announced,

"It really does feel like choking."

Bellatrix tried to give him a kind look and suggested, "Perhaps you tied it too tightly, My Lord."

He tugged again and then curled up half his mouth, parting his lips with a comeback ready. But just then, enchanted strings at the front of the ballroom began to play. The wedding was beginning. One of the smaller doors into the ballroom opened, and Rabastan's good friend, Lancelot Greengrass, walked in, followed by Rabastan. The two young wizards were trailed by an ancient man, the officiant, Redmond Avery. The three wizards waited at the platform as the music continued.

From the back of the ballroom, two little girls in fluffy white dresses came toddling in, clutching sparkling white rose bouquets. Holding their hands was Aurora's teenaged sister, Ava, who was clad in a modest cream-coloured dress. She handed the girls off to their parents and waited at the platform as the strings finished off their piece. Then herald trumpets enchanted to play themselves sounded a fanfare, and everyone slowly stood. As she rose, Bellatrix caught a whiff of books and leather from Voldemort's robes, a heady scent that set her heart to racing.

Aurora Travers came walking in steadily to the sound of bagpipes and drums. She had opted for an empire-waisted chiffon gown that showed the very gentle swell of her belly. She held her father's arm and a bouquet of cream roses and made no effort to hide her condition, seemingly unashamed of being pregnant. She grinned broadly at Rabastan, who appeared to be genuinely happy as he smiled back at her. Aurora and her father paused to bow their heads as they walked by Voldemort, who nodded so they could continue up the aisle. At last, Aurora reached the front and her father passed her hand to Rabastan, and everyone sat.

Redmond Avery droned on for a long while about how sometimes people were brought together by circumstances they did not expect. Bellatrix thought of how Aurora had been married to a much older wizard who had abandoned her, the way the witch had accidentally become pregnant with Rabastan's child and now was taking him for her husband. And yet, the two of them seemed so very happy. Rodolphus would be elated to see this, Bellatrix thought. To see his brother settling down at last with a witch like Aurora, with a child on the way. Then Bellatrix realised that Rabastan had known about this for weeks prior to Rodolphus' death. Had he told his brother? Had Rodolphus known about this before he'd been killed? Bellatrix wasn't sure if she wanted to know. She shut her eyes as Aurora's father made his way up to the platform and trilled out his assigned reading in his thick Scottish accent.

" _Wherever ye are, there shall I be. If ye shall be ill, I shall be there to tend to ye. If ye shall be happy, I shall be with ye to share in the joy. Through storms and through sunshine, we shall see it together, ye and I."_

Natalia Lestrange went up next, and Bellatrix was suddenly taken to Rodolphus' funeral. Natalia had been drugged, just like Bellatrix. She'd made it through readings marking her son's death. Bellatrix trembled a little where she sat. Voldemort looked to her, as if he understood what she was thinking, and he nodded. She met his eyes and was somehow comforted by his gaze, which she held all through Natalia's reading.

" _There is nothing in all the world more precious than the love shared between husband and wife. It is, undoubtedly, the strongest bond one can imagine. It is flesh. It is heart. It is soul. It is mind. It is an all-consuming love which devours us completely in the most important and beautiful way."_

Bellatrix broke her eyes away from Voldemort's as Natalia sat back down. She wasn't shaking anymore. She wasn't thinking of Rodolphus anymore. She was thinking of firewhisky, of touching her master, of kisses in the library, of gloves that stubbornly stayed leather.

"Do you, Aurora Travers, take Rabastan as your husband in perpetuity?" Redmond Avery was asking.

"I do." Aurora smiled beautifully and touched at her belly.

"Do you, Rabastan Lestrange, take Aurora as your wife in perpetuity?"

"I do." He seemed very happy then. He swiped a tear from his eye as he laughed a little and nodded vigorously. Bellatrix grinned.

"The rings?" Redmond Avery coughed a little as Lancelot Greengrass produced the rings from the pocket of his tuxedo robe. Rabastan pushed Aurora's ring onto her finger, and she put his ring on his hand. Then, together, they chanted the ancient vow.

" _I make you my heart. I make you my own. You make me your heart. You make me your own. Forever together and never alone. Bound up, united, stitched up and sewn. Husband and wife now, our flesh and our bone._ "

"I pronounce these two husband and wife, married now and always. Mr Lestrange, do kiss your bride," said Redmond Avery. Rabastan drew Aurora into a deep kiss as everyone stood and began to cheer. Voldemort rose but did not clap, much less cheer. His eyes flicked to Bellatrix, who was holding up far better than she'd been expecting to do. She flashed him a little smile, grateful for him being beside her. Somehow it seemed like she wouldn't have made it through this wedding as well without him near her.

The ballroom was transformed then. House-Elf magic vanished the chairs as people milled about, and tables full of food and drink appeared. Owing to the crowd and the logistics of the space, this wedding would not feature a full sit-down meal. Rather, there would be hors d'oeuvres, drinks, and dancing. Bellatrix meandered into a line of people waiting for food as Voldemort was swamped by people wanting to speak to him. She took a plate and filled it with meatballs, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and a few stuffed mushrooms. She walked by a table of Champagne flutes and plucked one up for herself.

As she stood at a high table alone eating, she watched Voldemort chatting with her father. She should have a closer relationship with her parents, Bellatrix thought. But, then, she didn't like her parents very much. They were exhausting. They were social climbers, petty and obnoxious. Bellatrix turned her attention to where Rabastan was dancing with his new wife. He looked enraptured by Aurora. He was in love with her, Bellatrix realised. If he hadn't been in love before, he'd fallen in love out of necessity. It was absolutely beautiful to watch.

She felt eyes on her and turned her gaze to see Voldemort watching her as her father spoke to him. Voldemort muttered something to Cygnus Black III and appeared to excuse himself from the conversation. He began to walk rather determinedly toward Bellatrix, who rushed to set down her speared meatball and swallow her bite. She swigged some Champagne to clean her mouth and steadied her breath as he approached. He was five paces away when the Malfoys swooped in like hawks on prey.

"My Lord," simpered Abraxas Malfoy, "she's too shy to ask you herself, but I wonder if you would grant a dance to the lady of the manor."

Adelaide giggled quite nervously. Bellatrix frowned. He didn't like to dance, but how could he say no? Adelaide Malfoy hosted his living quarters and his movement's headquarters. She was the hostess of this wedding. Voldemort licked his lip delicately and said,

"Oh. Adelaide. Yes, of course."

He walked a pace ahead of Adelaide toward the dance floor, and Abraxas watched on with pride as the Dark Lord pulled his wife into a dancing stance. Voldemort held Adelaide at arm's length, moving stiffly through the waltz the strings were playing. Bellatrix stared at them, but they didn't appear to be talking much. She huffed and chomped through her mushrooms and asparagus. Why did it make her stomach hurt to see his hands on someone else?

At the end of the waltz, Voldemort bowed politely and moved away from Adelaide, but as he did, Rabastan proudly handed over Aurora. Voldemort appeared reluctant, but how could he reject the bride? Bellatrix scowled, finishing her Champagne and shoving her empty glass and plate at Dobby when he went walking by. At last the song ended, and Voldemort didn't even bother bowing this time. He just hustled off the dance floor. Bellatrix walked over to a table stacked with cream puffs, and she used the tongs to pile half a dozen of them onto a dessert plate. She popped one into her mouth and chewed, wondering what the blazes was the matter with her.

"I'm famished."

She looked up to see Voldemort before her, and he plucked a cream puff off of her plate and distractedly ate it. She laughed a little and gestured to the mountain of cream puffs on the table behind her.

"They've got a whole load of them, Master."

"Then you won't mind sharing," he said, raising his eyebrows and taking another off her plate. For some reason, the act of him taking something of hers, of them sharing food, made her tingle. She wasn't sure quite why.

"Did you quite enjoy your time with Mrs Malfoy and Aurora, Master?" Bellatrix took a cream puff and chewed it. Voldemort shook his head.

"No. You know very well that I do not care for dancing."

"Not ever?" Bellatrix was pressing him, she knew. He gave her a serious look.

"The circumstances have to be precisely correct."

"Circumstances," Bellatrix repeated, and Voldemort pursed his lips.

"The dance partner."

"Oh, I see." Bellatrix's heart accelerated just a little as she dared to ask, "Might you ever get those circumstances just so, My Lord? So that you could enjoy yourself?"

He pulled the plate of cream puffs away from her and set it on the high table beside him. He held out his right hand and asked gently,

"May I have the next dance, Madam Lestrange?"

Bellatrix was utterly lost in him then. She just nodded, struck dumb like a fool. She put her fingers into his palm, shocked by the way he walked her out to the dance floor with her hand carefully placed on his. Everyone was watching them. She felt every eye in the ballroom upon her. He put his hands on her confidently this time, with no boyish hesitation like he'd at at her cousin's wedding. He grasped her hand firmly and placed his other palm straight onto the small of Bellatrix's back. His fingers clenched a little, pulling her much closer than he'd pulled either Adelaide Malfoy or Aurora. They began to sway to the slow, easy music. For a while, they just stared at one another, until Voldemort said almost aggressively,

"You are the most beautiful witch in this ballroom."

Her mouth dropped open at that. He just nodded, seeming quite sure of himself. Bellatrix squeezed his shoulder and his hand and whispered desperately,

"I want you, Master. I've wanted you for these last few weeks, badly."

"Bella." He looked dizzy and hungry at what she'd said, at her confession, and he was thrown off step for a moment. He regained his composure quickly, blinking a few times and drawing Bellatrix's attention to the glaze over his eye.

"May I ask you something?" she blurted quietly. He shrugged.

"That very much depends."

She looked around, making sure no one was listening, and whispered, "Can you see?"

"Sorry?" He didn't seem to understand the question. Bellatrix clarified,

"Your eye. The cloudy one. Can you see properly from it?"

"Oh." Voldemort scoffed, shaking his head. "No. That one's blind."

"You're blind in one eye?" Bellatrix hissed, for this was new information to her. Voldemort seemed utterly unaffected.

"It was an adjustment at first. Pouring things, writing, range of vision are affected. I'm quite used to it now."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix mumbled. "Sorry it happened and sorry I asked."

He shook his head. "I'm sure you wonder where all my scars and damage come from."

Bellatrix said nothing. She just pondered the white rivulets running around his flesh, the way his lip looked like it had been sliced, the way his cheekbone seemed to have been shattered. She thought of how her mother had told her that Tom Riddle had been the most handsome boy in all of Hogwarts. What had happened to Lord Voldemort?

"Perhaps someday I shall tell you," Voldemort said quietly. "It is rather a long story, but rather an interesting one."

"I'm sure it's fascinating," Bellatrix nodded. " _You_  are fascinating."

Voldemort stared at Bellatrix's lips, then her eyes, and huffed a breath. He kept swaying, tightening his hands on her.

"Right now, what I am is a wizard who finds himself in somewhat desperate need of the rooms upstairs."

Bellatrix frowned, confused. "The… the rooms upstairs, Master?"

His tongue wet his lip, and he nodded. "I am going to take you upstairs."

The song ended then, and Bellatrix stopped dancing. She hesitantly let her hand slide down Voldemort's chest off his shoulder, and she let go of his other hand with great reluctance. He was going to take her upstairs?

"Now?" she whispered, and he choked a laugh.

"No, you silly girl. I can not walk out of a party to go… to go do  _that_. People will notice the conspicuous absence of the Dark Lord, won't they?"

Bellatrix was hot-cheeked and overwhelmed then. Sex. He wanted sex. He wanted to take her upstairs and have sex with her. Did he mean her rooms or his? Why did that bit matter? Bellatrix gulped past the knot in her throat and panted where she stood.

"As soon as this nonsense begins to die down, I shall come find you," Voldemort said in a low voice. "And then, Bella, I shall take you upstairs and do what every fibre of my being is shrieking at me to do right now. Mmph. Kindly go somewhere else."

She blinked up at him, seeing that his cheeks had flushed and that his breath was coming hard and shallow.

"Are you cross with me, My Lord?" she asked meekly, but he shook his head and insisted,

"No, it's… I am liable to kiss you, right now, here in front of everyone, if you keep standing where you are. So go eat some more cream puffs or something."

She hesitated for just a second. She didn't  _want_  to walk away from him. She wanted another dance. But Voldemort shut his eyes and said in a voice that left absolutely no room for debate,

"I shall come and find you when I am ready."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix curtsied, though his eyes were still closed, and she hurried away. As she did, she passed Narcissa, who was staring at her with a look of deep, curious suspicion in her pale eyes.

**Author's Note: Ten points to your Hogwarts House if you recognized the dream from the very beginning of the fic in this chapter. So, Rabastan got his happily ever after, Bellatrix and Voldemort got some cute chat time, and there is** _ **definitely**_   **a** _ **major**_   **lemon headed our way in the next chapter. What do you think - will Voldemort be firmly dominant and assertive since he's the Dark Lord, or will he be gentler and easier on Bellatrix given the fact that she's still in mourning? And will they be going to Voldemort's rooms or Bellatrix's?**

**Thanks so very much for reading. Please let me know your thoughts!**


	12. Way Forward

Bellatrix sipped at her Champagne and started to feel dizzy. She was on her third glass of the stuff, but how could she not be? This wedding had dragged on for what felt like an absolute eternity. In reality, it had only been three hours since she'd danced with Voldemort, but that time had passed so slowly that it felt like torture.

For a while, Bellatrix had chatted with her family and the few people she considered friends. She had spent about ten minutes telling Aurora just how beautiful she looked, how lovely her roses were. She'd talked with Rabastan about how much Rodolphus would have wanted to see all of this. She let her mother fawn over her Grecian gown and her done-up hair, and she listened to her father tell her that the Dark Lord had become very wealthy through recent financial decisions Cygnus had made.

Bellatrix had worked her way through her second flute of Champagne as her grandmother Irma Black complained about her aching hip, as her grandfather Pollux insisted that it was uncouth to have such a grand wedding for a pregnant bride. She'd danced with her father as he droned on and on about how Bellatrix's mother's family, the Rosiers, were donating monthly now to the cause. Then she'd danced with Lucius, at Narcissa's insistence, and talked with him about Severus Snape, who was to be made a Death Eater on his nineteenth birthday, according to rumour.

All of that dancing and talking had distracted Bellatrix, at least temporarily, from the idea that Voldemort wanted to take her upstairs and have sex with her. But now she stood alone, drinking her third glass of alcohol and watching Voldemort dance with her mother. He'd danced with many Pureblood ladies tonight, Bellatrix thought. He didn't like dancing. She felt a little sorry for him, watching him move with stilted, awkward steps as he swayed with Druella. They'd gone to school together. Perhaps in a different world, they could have been married. Druella Rosier might have married Tom Riddle.

But - no. That never would have happened. Bellatrix's father had told her that Tom Riddle was forced to return to a Muggle orphanage on school holidays. Lord Voldemort was a Half-Blood, and everyone knew it. More than that, he was an orphan who had been raised by Muggles in some hellish establishment in London. Druella Rosier came from a very long line of the most established and prestigious Purebloods in Britain. There was no chance that her family would have let her touch, much less marry, Tom Riddle.

Was that why he hadn't married as a young man, Bellatrix wondered, sipping her drink? Was it because he'd lacked power back then, and no Pureblood witches would consider him for marriage? She couldn't imagine him taking a bride from outside the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and she couldn't imagine anyone within that circle considering a Half-Blood orphan without a Knut to his name. The impasse would have rendered him a hopeless bachelor, she thought. Perhaps it had worked out for the best. Perhaps a wife would have slowed him down.

His dance with her mother ended, and Bellatrix finished drinking her Champagne. She set down the empty glass and watched as a small line of revelers waited to say goodnight to Rabastan and Aurora. The party was winding down at last. Voldemort bowed his head respectfully to Druella and walked off the dance floor, and Bellatrix's heart accelerated when she saw that he was heading straight for her. His face was serious, and as he neared the high table where she was standing, he grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing House-Elf's tray and sipped. He finally reached Bellatrix and said simply,

"Go up to your rooms and wait for me."

She blinked. Was it as simple as that? She hesitated. She ought not do this, she thought. She was at the wedding of Rodolphus' brother. It had been just over two months to the day since she'd accidentally killed her own husband. Not enough time had passed. The wound was still fresh and new. She was still grieving, mourning. Guilty. She stared at Voldemort, knowing he could read all of her thoughts in her desperate eyes. She silently pleaded with him for guidance, and he said quite simply,

"You must continue forward."

"Is this the way forward?" she asked softly, and he said quite assuredly,

"I am your way forward, Bellatrix. Will you do as I command you or not?"

She nodded. "Always, Master."

He came around the table and bent until his lips were beside her ear, making her shiver.

"Then go upstairs to your rooms," he hummed, "and wait for me. Now."

"Yes, My Lord."

Bellatrix quickly stepped away from his close contact, feeling Narcissa's curious eyes on her as she went. She met her sister's gaze as she walked toward the exit of the ballroom, and Narcissa raised her pale brows. Bellatrix just looked down at her feet as she walked briskly out of the space.

She hustled through the corridor and up the winding staircase, feeling less guilty now than she'd felt before. Suddenly, she'd come alive with excitement. Was this actually going to happen? Was she going to be physical in  _that_  way with her master, with the man she worshipped like a god? Was he going to touch her and kiss her and…

Would he be rough with her?

Rodolphus had never, ever been rough. He had placed soft kisses on Bellatrix's shoulder as he pumped gently into her whilst spooning her. He had kissed her lips carefully whilst moving atop her. He'd tangled into the sheets with her as they both laughed in the early light of dawn. He'd smelled of soap and shaving cream, or of sleep and Butterbeer, as he'd curled up beside Bellatrix in the wake of a climax. Rodolphus had always been slow, careful, gentle, easy with Bellatrix. He would never have shoved or pulled or ordered her about. It hadn't been in his nature.

What would Lord Voldemort do? He was her lord and master. He was the supreme and unquestioned leader of a violent, murderous movement? What would he be like in his most private, intimate encounters? Bellatrix found her stomach clenching with nervous anticipation as she approached her suite and opened the door. Should she leave her gown on? Should she strip down and put on a satin dressing gown? She paced and knitted her hands. He'd told her to wait for him. He hadn't given her any further instruction. Bellatrix decided not to assume anything. The last thing she wanted was to make him angry.

After some time, Bellatrix jolted, for there were four solid knocks on the door that led from her sitting room to the corridor. She gasped and let out a shaking breath. She walked toward the door and reached with a trembling hand for the handle. She shut her eyes, steeled herself, and reminded herself that her master was the way forward. And then she opened the door.

Voldemort stared at her over the threshold, his face quite serious. He cocked up an eyebrow as Bellatrix gulped and stared. He finally cleared his throat.

"Are you going to invite me in?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course. Please, Master, won't you come in?" Bellatrix stepped aside, and Voldemort strode into the room as Bellatrix shut the door. She anxiously yanked her fingers against each other until her knuckles hurt, feeling so insecure that she thought she'd dissolve into a puddle. Voldemort walked confidently into the sitting room and began to undo the knot of his bow tie.

"Thank Merlin I can take this horrid thing off now," he sighed, turning round to face Bellatrix. She smiled nervously as he unbuttoned the first three buttons of his white tuxedo shirt and huffed, "Ah. That's much better. Sweet relief."

"I felt awful for you," Bellatrix said quietly, "watching you dance with Mrs Mulciber, Mrs Crouch, Harriet Flint, Paisley Parkinson, my mother… all the while wearing an uncomfortable bow tie. You must have been quite miserable."

"I had something to look forward to," Voldemort said simply, "so I tolerated it just fine."

He gave her a weighty look, and Bellatrix felt her skin prickle. She sucked in breath as his eyes bored into her. She thought about what he'd told her, that he was blind in one eye, and she wondered if that affected the way he saw her. He certainly seemed to be seeing her just fine as he looked her up and down and set his bow tie on the arm of the sofa beside him.

"I should be careful with you," he said thoughtfully. "Careful in many ways. I ought to be careful because you are my servant, and I am your master, and it is quite important to maintain that. But I also ought to be careful with you because you are still of a vulnerable mind. I do not wish to damage you and put your combat service at risk because I traumatised you over this."

Bellatrix knew what he meant. She remembered the way she'd frozen and panicked when he'd offered to reciprocate and touch her in his office. He'd barely even offered, and she'd begun to cry. He was worried that she was going to tense up and lose her head again. She chewed her lip where she stood as he pulled out his wand, peeled off his black tuxedo robe and tossed it over the arm of the sofa. He began to work then on the silver cufflinks he had in the sleeves of his shirt.

"I ought to be very careful with you," he said again. "I ought to touch you softly, like a lover. I ought to kiss you and whisper softly into your ear. I ought to be gentle with you. But I am not a gentle man, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix licked her lip a little and felt everything inside of her speed up. Her breath, her heart. The flow of her blood in her veins, the racing noise inside her ears. She watched as Voldemort unbuttoned the shiny black buttons going down his shirt, yanking it from his dress trousers. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, too, and soon enough he'd peeled both the shirt and the waistcoat away and dropped them onto the arm of the chair with his robe and tie. Then he kicked off his dress shoes, and he took a step toward Bellatrix.

She was shocked. Utterly shocked. He was so toned, so lean and muscled, and she never would have expected that this build lay beneath all the robes he always wore. He looked hard and firm. He had white scars across his shoulders and chest, just like the ones on his neck and face. The white lines looked a little raised on his torso, like long, thin rivers. There was a space near his heart that looked like he'd been struck by some sort of projectile that had ripped through his flesh, leaving it marled and torn. It had healed in an uneven, angry patch of scar tissue. His chiseled stomach had a feathery covering of greying hair, reminding Bellatrix that he was indeed a man of fifty or so. Bellatrix raised her eyes to his, and she knew she was gaping.

She stared into his eyes, studying the cloudy glaze of the blind one, then examining the bright shine of the seeing one. She felt a warm flush go through her and settle in her lower belly, spreading down between her thighs. Soon enough she was the victim of a throbbing, insistent sensation, and she squirmed. She had no knickers on, for she hadn't wanted a line in her silky dress, and now the wet heat of her arousal was leaking between her legs.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort said with a crisp nod, "Take off your gown."

Bellatrix's cheeks wet hot. She nodded and tried to say  _Yes, Master,_ but she couldn't manage to say anything at all. She reached behind her back and pulled at the little bow tying the silver ribbon on her gown together. She unfurled it, unwinding it from her waist and pulling it off her torso. She let it fall to the floor, and then she reached up to her shoulders and pulled off one strap, then the other. She pushed the gown downward, shoving it over her ribs and hips and allowing it to pool at her feet. She kicked it aside and stood upright, completely nude now.

She should be ashamed, Bellatrix thought. She should be self-conscious, standing here before this magnificent man, wearing not a scrap of clothing. But instead she felt just a little proud. After all, she was still rather young. She was newly twenty-seven, far younger than Lord Voldemort. Her skin was smooth; her frame was thin but shapely. She had small, round breasts and a gently curving waist and hip. She wasn't ugly. She knew that much, at least. So when she saw the hunger in his expression, she knew it was genuine. She knew he wanted her.

He stepped slowly toward her, and he murmured quietly,

"My, but you are lovely."

He walked right up to her then, and he utterly shocked Bellatrix by hovering over her and putting his fingers between her legs. She gasped as he touched the pads of his fingers to her clit, and then he let out a choked little noise and shut his eyes.

"Soaked," he whispered. "Soaking wet. Mmph."

Bellatrix stumbled, unable to keep standing upright where she was as he started to pulse his fingers on her. She frantically moved toward the sofa and leaned with one hand onto the back of it. He adjusted with her and let her steady herself, and he used his free hand to tip her chin up as he leaned down further. He kissed her lips, carefully at first, and muttered,

"I wanted to kiss you during the ceremony, when I was sitting next to you."

He suddenly twisted two fingers into Bellatrix, and she yelped as she threw one arm up around Voldemort's bare shoulder. She clutched at the sofa and kissed him harder. She let him draw her tongue into his mouth and suck on it as he hooked his fingers inside of her. He used his thumb to draw circles on her clit, and Bellatrix's knees almost gave out. Her nipples were so alert that the air almost hurt upon them. She moaned helplessly into the kiss, and he pumped his fingers within her. He bit her lip and pressed his thumb harder on her clit, and she scratched at the sofa. He mumbled onto her bruised lip,

"I wanted to kiss you when you and I were dancing. The entire time, I had to resist the urge to kiss you."

He used his free hand to reach for her breast, dragging his thumb over her nipple as he massages the soft breast tissue. He squeezed then, so hard that Bellatrix whimpered, and he swallowed her wail with another kiss. He dragged the fingers of his other hand out of her womanhood and began to caress her walls and folds, drawing his fingers in a V shape up and down, front to back. His thumb kept flicking at her clit, pressing every now and then. Bellatrix could feel everything starting to tighten, starting to go hot, and she could tell she was nearing the edge of the precipice. She tipped her head back a little, and Voldemort followed her, kissing her again. Her lips actually hurt now from all of this kissing, but it was delightful. It was the best sort of pain, the way he was nibbling and suckling, pulling and pushing. She hummed onto his mouth and rubbed at his bicep, marveling at his muscle. She felt more scar tissue beneath her fingertips, but she ignored it, petting his skin as though the two of them actually knew one another.

His fingers were moving deeply and deliberately now. He could sense that she was close. His thumb was drawing intensely purposeful circles on her clit as his fingers massaged her folds and entrance. His other hand stroked at her ribcage and then at her back, and he held her close as she gasped and snapped.

"I wanted to kiss you," he said as she wrenched her eyes shut and came hard, "when I was dancing with those other witches."

That thought just intensified Bellatrix's climax.

"Oh," she huffed, and her knees did give out then. He caught her, sweeping her up against him as her walls cinched rhythmically around his fingers. Her whole body seared like fire, and her ears rang so that she could hear nothing else. She kept her eyes screwed shut and just held onto him until it had passed, until the ridiculously intense pleasure was over with, and she whispered desperately,

"Master… oh, Master."

"That good, hmm?" He sounded amused, and when she managed to stand on wobbly legs, he smirked at her. She felt drunk and dizzy, and she nodded. She'd never, ever come that hard, she didn't suppose. Why had it been so intense?

"Are you in need of contraception?" he asked quite crisply, but Bellatrix just shook her head. She'd taken a year-long potion four months earlier. After all, she and Rodolphus had been delaying their plans for a baby until after the Dark Lord's victory in this war. So the potion she'd taken would protect her until the following August. Of course, it had been intended to protect her in sexual encounters with Rodolphus. Bellatrix gulped and shut her eyes.

_He is the way forward,_  she thought determinedly.

"Bella, go lie on your bed," Voldemort instructed her. She opened her eyes and did as he commanded, walking on still-shaking legs through the open French doors that led to her bedroom. She went to the bed and lay on her back, settling up against the pillows. But as Voldemort came into the room, he shook his head and insisted,

"No, erm… other way. Hands and knees."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide. She remembered, distantly, one time when she'd drunkenly begged Rodolphus.  _Pound me from behind_ , she'd said. They'd had too much to drink at a party, and Bellatrix had gotten bold. But Dolph had said that he wasn't comfortable doing that to her, and instead he'd caressed her as they lay facing one another making love. Now Bellatrix was being ordered onto her hands and knees. Was she about to be… pounded?

She swiftly moved, adjusting herself until she felt like a cat in presentation, wondering just how attractive she could possibly be right now. She could hear Voldemort taking off his belt, and she knew he was stripping off his trousers. Then he joined her on the bed; the mattress shifted and heaved as he made his way up. Bellatrix shut her eyes, knowing he was staring at her wet womanhood and her arse. She flinched as his hand started to rub at the cheek of her backside, and her heart skipped a beat as he murmured,

"Beautiful."

He dragged a thumb over her slick entrance, still so sensitive from the way he'd made her come. Then she felt the press of his cock there, and she gulped. She wrenched her eyes shut and squeezed at the down comforter. He pushed in, and Bellatrix gasped a bit too loudly. He was large. She knew that. But now she  _felt_  it, and it was obvious. He was stretching her, making her work to accommodate him, and it was delightful. She cried out softly and struggled not to collapse downward.

Soon enough he'd sheathed himself to the hilt, and his hands held fast to Bellatrix's waist. He gripped her for leverage and began to thrust, pulling out a few inches and then pushing in farther than ever. Bellatrix yelped at the delicious intrusion, the utter invasion of him. She moaned helplessly when he sped up his thrusts and established a rhythm. In and out, in and out. Over and over, his cock moved, sliding easily through Bellatrix's fluids of aroused bliss. Voldemort's hands started to trail up Bellatrix's back, down her spine and onto her backside. He let his fingertips sink into the soft flesh there and grunted, thrusting more vigorously. Bellatrix fell off balance, down onto her elbows, and found that she very much liked this new angle. Suddenly Voldemort's thrusts were grinding against her just so, rubbing at a spot that stimulated her clit with every push. She cried into the pillow onto which she'd fallen, her fingers grappling at it and squeezing. Voldemort held her waist again and moved faster, and she heard him panting. He was exerting himself; was he enjoying himself? As if to answer her, he groaned a little, and Bellatrix's eyes rolled back at the sound.

She suddenly felt everything spinning, like she was losing control. Was she going to come again? Surely not. It wasn't possible, was it? But this felt good -  _so_ good - and he was thrusting and grinding with force and vigour Bellatrix hadn't known was possible.

"Oh, please don't stop," she finally begged him, turning her face on the pillow and gasping for air. "Please, please don't stop."

"Why not?" he teased her in a breathy voice. Bellatrix looked over her shoulder at him, and her mouth fell open with want. His stomach was tensing, flexing with every thrust, and his arms looked so good holding her, and he -

"I'm going to come," she declared confidently. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Oh, you are, are you?"

"Yes." Bellatrix's eyes fluttered shut, and Voldemort somehow sped up and intensified his thrusting. Bellatrix squealed and buried her face into the pillow, having no idea at all just how he was slamming into her like this. Her head suddenly smacked the headboard from the force of what he was doing to her, and it did her in. She liked this too much. The angle, the grinding, the intensity, the speed. She liked having him behind her, dominating her body and pounding her into the sheets whilst her pleasure built within her. She liked it entirely too much, and she lost herself.

She screamed into the pillow as she came around his cock, as he kept pounding her through it. She tried to breathe, tried to move her face, but somehow the little taste of suffocation in the pillow just made everything stronger. Finally, the vast and wondrous pleasure subsided a bit, and Bellatrix felt Voldemort stop thrusting all of a sudden.

She wondered at first if she'd done something wrong in having another climax, but then she heard him let out a choked noise, and his hands cinched painfully round her waist. She looked over her shoulder, panting frantically, and saw his face twisted with what she knew was pleasure. He tipped his head back and gnawed his lip, and then suddenly Bellatrix felt fluid leaking down the inside of her thigh. He slowly pulled out of her, and a river of his come followed, making Bellatrix shiver.

" _Tergeo,_ " Voldemort incanted wandlessly, sounding very out of breath. " _Scourgify."_

Bellatrix silently rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling and thinking that she ought to feel awful right now. She had essentially cheated on Rodolphus, hadn't she? She was an unfaithful wife. But, no - Rodolphus was dead and gone, and Lord Voldemort was the master who was here and alive. Bellatrix blinked and whispered,

"I am not sorry, Master."

"Good," he said stiffly. "Neither am I."

He climbed off the bed then and went over to where he'd left his trousers on the floor. He started to dress again, and Bellatrix wondered if she should do the same. He answered her question when he said,

"I shall dress and see myself out. Go take a nice bath; I'm sure you're a bit sore after that."

She was, as it happened; her arms and legs and head were sore from him pounding her, and she ached between her legs from his size. But it was a most delectable sort of sore. Bellatrix slowly sat up, reaching for a pillow to cover herself a little as she said quietly,

"I am so grateful for the dance you gave me at the wedding."

He smirked at her from the sitting room, where he was pulling on his dress shirt.

"If only it had been more than one dance, hmm?"

"Well. You don't like dancing, anyway," Bellatrix said, watching him do up his cufflinks. He dragged his teeth over his lip and stared at her.

"I like dancing with you."

"Why me?" Bellatrix asked. Then, correcting herself, she added, "Master?"

He pulled on his waistcoat and said very simply,

"Because you are loyal, and sophisticated, and intelligent, and skilled, and funny, and beautiful. Why you, indeed."

Bellatrix's heart raced to hear him praise her like that. Her eyes welled. He pulled on his tuxedo robe and picked up his bow tie, holding it up.

"I am  _not_  putting  _this_  back on."

She giggled a little and told him,

"My gloves are still leather."

"Are they?" He gazed through the open French doors at her, and he finally walked into the bedroom and came straight to the bed. He took Bellatrix's face in his hands, planted a kiss on her forehead, and whispered, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Master," she said. He curled up half his mouth and murmured,

"Do you know, I think I shall get it, after all."

"Get what, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort shrugged.

"Something I'd considered for you. A Christmas gift from your master. I think I shall get it, after all. Goodnight, Bellatrix."

He walked away then, out through the French doors and the sitting room and out to the corridor.

**Author's Note: They finally did it! Wooo! Sorry for the poor quality of this chapter; I tested positive for both Influenza B and Strep Throat (at the same time!) so I'm doing my best!**


	13. Slap

Bellatrix took a bite of her crisp apple where she sat in the burgundy parlour. She was wearing her leather gloves and a plush traveling cloak, for she was planning on shopping today. She stared out at the cold gardens, wondering when she was going to go back to the house she'd shared with Rodolphus.

Was she ready, she asked herself? Could she sleep in the bed she'd shared with her husband? Could she eat her breakfasts in their nook? Could she read quietly in their sitting room? Yes, she thought. She was ready. She needed to move forward, after all. She was Bellatrix Lestrange, independent widow. And it was time to go home.

"Morning, Bella," said Narcissa's voice from behind her. Bellatrix turned round and set down her half-eaten apple on the ledge. Narcissa gave her a warm smile. "What are you thinking about in here?"  
"I'm thinking," Bellatrix began carefully, "that I'm ready to go home."

"Home," Narcissa repeated, looking surprised. Bellatrix nodded.

"I am so incredibly grateful for the hospitality of Malfoy Manor," she said, "but I am a grown woman, and it is time for me to go back to my own house now."

Narcissa looked upset all of a sudden. Her pretty features twisted a little.

"Well, I wish you would reconsider," she said. "I would miss you terribly at dinnertime. I would miss our walks in the gardens. Besides, what good would it do you to go back to that house and live all by yourself in the places that you shared with Rodolphus? How will that help you to heal?"

Bellatrix thought for a moment that perhaps Narcissa had a point. Rodolphus haunted that house, she thought. He might not be a ghost; he'd gone on to rest in that awful grave where they'd laid him. But his memory

inhabited every nook and cranny of the house where he'd lived with Bellatrix for years.

"Think on it," Narcissa was saying. "You can stay here forever if you like. I don't want you to go. But, Bellatrix? Before you left Rabastan's wedding last night, the Dark Lord said something in your ear, and you seemed amazed. Is something amuck?"

"Amuck?" Bellatrix repeated, licking her lip nervously. Narcissa raised her eyebrows.

"You know. Is something…  _happening?_ "

"Oh. No. We were gossiping about the witches he'd had to dance with," Bellatrix lied lightly. Narcissa looked suspicious but just said,

"I see."

Bellatrix decided quickly to change the subject. She folded her hands before her and said,

"I have to finish Christmas shopping. Still need a gift for Mummy, and I could really use your help choosing something. Will you go to Knockturn Alley with me?"

Narcissa nodded vigorously.

"Yes. That sounds like a marvelous use of this cold and dreary day. Shopping. Yes. I shall go at once to fetch my gloves and cloak. I'll change into warmer boots, as well, and let Lucius know where I'm going. I'll meet you back here in a few minutes, all right?"

"See you." Bellatrix picked up her apple and took another bite as Narcissa briskly walked out of the burgundy parlour. Just a few moments later, a figure appeared in the doorway - Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix froze with a bite of apple in her mouth. He smirked at her.

"I thought I heard your voice in here."

Bellatrix set her apple down and smiled as she swallowed the bite of apple. She bowed her head, suddenly remembering the way he'd roughly pounded her the night before. She could still feel his thrusts, his fingers between her legs. She shivered where she stood as Voldemort approached her and tipped her chin up. He raised his eyebrows curiously and studied her face, looking just a little hungry.

"Where are you off to," he began, "all dressed up in a warm cloak with my gloves on your hands?"

Bellatrix curled up half her mouth at his observation, and she reached out to plant her palms on his chest.

"Cissy and I are going shopping, Master. I need to buy a gift for my mother still."

_And for you_ , she added in her mind, for he'd mentioned the night before that he was buying her a gift.

"Enjoy yourself," Voldemort commanded her softly. He stared down at her, holding her face in his two hands. She examined the white rivers of scar tissue on his face and then met his eyes.

"Master," she said, "I think that, very soon, I shall be moving back into my own house."

He scowled. He was not happy with that news, she could see.

"Why would you do that?" he snapped, his tone biting. "Why wouldn't you just stay here?"

His breath had picked up a little, and his hands had tightened on her face. Bellatrix reached up on instinct to hold his wrists, but he continued,

"Why would you go back to a home where every sofa, every dish, every chair is imbued with memories of him? Why would you eat alone in the dining room where you shared meals with him? Why would you sleep in that bed, Bellatrix? It's only been two months; why would you go back? You are ordinarily quite a logical witch, but I can't make sense of this."

Bellatrix hesitated. She didn't really want to leave Malfoy Manor; it meant leaving  _him_. Being alone meant being away from the Dark Lord. But shouldn't she want to be independent in the wake of her widowhood? She felt conflict swirl within her.

Voldemort bent down to kiss her delicately, and he murmured,

"Do not leave. That is stupid. Stay here."

Bellatrix hummed against his lips, remembering the night before. She remembered coming as he'd touched her, screaming into the pillow, the way he'd kissed her goodnight. Suddenly her kiss with Voldemort was deepening, and her tongue was tangling with his. When at last she broke away, Bellatrix whispered frantically up at him,

"I want more of you."

"Mmm. More what?" He smirked down at her, and she gulped.

"I want to know about your scars. Why you went blind in one eye. I want to eat dinners with you. I want to give you pleasure. To serve you."

"Then stay here." He brushed his thumb over her lip and raised his eyebrows. "Do not go back to that house."

He kissed her again, far more intensely than before. He snared his arms around her and pulled her tightly against his body, and Bellatrix moaned as she twined her hands together behind his neck.

"Bella?"

All of a sudden, Voldemort was staggering backward, dragging his wrist over his lips. Bellatrix was gasping, seeing Narcissa standing in the doorway. Narcissa, for her part, looked utterly terrified. Voldemort pulled his wand out, and Bellatrix wondered whether he meant to Obliviate or hex Narcissa. For a moment, it genuinely was unclear. Narcissa's eyes were round as saucers as she pulled on her gloves and cleared her throat carefully.

"Bella," she said again, shaking as though she feared for her life, "are you ready to go shopping?"

Bellatrix just nodded. She felt nauseated and dizzy as she turned and curtsied deeply to Lord Voldemort. She held the curtsy and bowed her head, and Voldemort said crisply to her,

"Dismissed, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix rose and hustled out of the room, her cheeks on fire. In the corridor, Narcissa was silent but breathing and walking quickly, apparently in quite a hurry to get out of the manor. Bellatrix tried to say something, failed, and finally just walked in silence beside her sister. Outside, in the garden, Bellatrix glanced backward toward the house and finally gathered the courage to say to her little sister,

"Whatever you think you saw, you need to forget that you saw it."

"I understand," said Narcissa numbly as they walked through the gate. Bellatrix looked at her and reminded her,

"It is dangerous to sit around and perseverate on what you think you saw."

"I didn't see anything," Narcissa shrugged helplessly. Bellatrix nibbled her lip and pulled out her wand.

"Right."

They Apparated to Knockturn Alley, and Narcissa distractedly suggested when they landed,

"For Mummy, why don't you take a look in the herbal apothecary? You know she likes aromatherapy. Let's go in there."

She walked with a purpose toward the shop without waiting for an answer, and Bellatrix followed her. Bellatrix thought of just how passionately she'd been kissing Voldemort when Narcissa had appeared at the door. She thought of how Narcissa had been suspicious at the wedding, and even before then. Her stomach churned.

Inside the shop, Narcissa was on a mission. She began picking up bottles of herbal creams and oils, moving through the shop like a whirling dervish. She finally picked up a pair of plush slippers imbued with dried aromatic herbs.

"These warm with magic when you put your feet in them," Narcissa said very matter-of-factly. "Mummy would quite like them, I think."

"Yes, I think she would enjoy those," Bellatrix nodded. She didn't really care at this point. Would those slippers do as a gift? Probably. Sure. Fine. Why not? Frankly, Bellatrix didn't like her mother enough to work very hard at a gift in the first place, and today she was too worried about what Narcissa had witnessed to put heart and soul into Christmas shopping.

Bellatrix carried the slippers up through the narrow, cramped herbal shop to the desk where a slumped old witch was waiting, and she handed over seven Galleons for them. The witch quickly boxed up the slippers and put them in a canvas bag. As Bellatrix took the bag, she said to Narcissa,

"I need one more gift."

Narcissa pinched her lip and nodded silently. She didn't ask who the gift was for. She knew damned well that it was for Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix and Narcissa made their way out of the herbal apothecary and through the street toward Borgin and Burkes. Inside that empty, eerie shop, they were greeted by old Mr Burke.

"The ladies Black," he greeted them, giving a respectful nod. "How may I be of assistance today?"

"I need something distinctive and sophisticated, Mr Burke," said Bellatrix. "The gift recipient deserves only the best."

Mr Burke gave her a knowing look and excused himself to the back of the shop to fetch something. Whilst he was gone, Narcissa murmured from beside Bellatrix,

"Kisses. Christmas gifts. There is…  _something_."

Bellatrix glared. "All there is, Cissy, is a bit of messing about and the admiration of a servant for her master."

Mr Burke came back then, carrying a brass-rimmed round window filled with water and coloured sand. He set it down on its stand and flipped it to rotate the framed window. When he flipped it, the water and sand moved. The magic within the artefact made the sand form a beautiful, multi-coloured painting-like work of art in the water. The sand formed a rose, and then when Mr Burke flipped it, the sand cascaded elegantly downward and made the shape of a tree.

"Oh, that's lovely," Bellatrix breathed. She was quite pleased. This gift wasn't overly personal, and he might like it on his desk.

"The cost is thirty Galleons," Mr Burke said. Bellatrix balked just a little, but she silently counted out the coins from her purse. It was worth it, she thought. She wanted to give her master a fine gift.

"Wrap it in festive paper, please, Mr Burke," she commanded, and Mr Burke began to carefully wrap up the artefact in shiny silver-and-black striped paper. As he worked, Narcissa hissed from beside Bellatrix,

"And what would Rodolphus say if he knew that, two months after you'd accidentally killed him, you were kissing your master and buying him Christmas gifts?"

Bellatrix froze. Then her eyes burned and she was overcome with rage. She slapped Narcissa as hard as she possibly could, whirling on her sister and leveling a wallop of a smack onto her cheek. Narcissa yelped and clutched at her cheek. Mr Burke seemed shocked by the sudden, unexpected violence. Bellatrix said nothing at all as her face seared with anger. She just took her shopping bag from Mr Burke and shoved her coins at him, stalking wordlessly from the shop. She Disapparated mid-step, coming to outside Malfoy Manor and wishing with all her might that Narcissa had never seen her kiss Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Later that night, Bellatrix was sitting in her sitting room, sipping a cup of peppermint tea and listening to her Wizarding Wireless. The news was on, and they were discussing Christmas.

" _Many people are terribly afraid of what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might have in store over the Christmas holiday,_ " said the anchor. " _Many Muggle-borns and their families fear a Christmastime attack and are on guard. Others worry for their Muggle neighbours._ "

Bellatrix sipped her tea, knowing that they had a meeting in two days' time. Would she get an assignment? She rather hoped so.

There were four even knocks on her door, and Bellatrix jolted where she sat. She rose with her tea in her hand and strode across the room, opening the door. When she did, Voldemort was staring at her. Bellatrix sucked in air hard, standing aside and bowing her head as he walked into her rooms. She shut the door behind him, and he said simply,

"I Obliviated Narcissa. Tonight, after dinner."

Bellatrix froze. She'd eaten dinner alone in her suite tonight, owing to her fight with Narcissa in Borgin and Burkes. She gaped at Voldemort.

"I saw in her mind the way you two argued in Knockturn Alley, the way you struck her. I couldn't very well have her going about from now on with the memory of you and I kissing in her head, could I?"

"No, I suppose not, My Lord," Bellatrix mumbled.

He drummed his fingers on the back of her sofa and glanced into her bedroom. Then he shut his eyes, tipped his head, and said quietly,

"Right. I need to leave now."

Bellatrix stared at him in confusion. What had made him so cross so suddenly? He explained,

"I have rather a… different idea tonight… of what I should like to do with you in your bed, and it is not acceptable. So."

Bellatrix just gazed up at his face, feeling utterly baffled. Then, suddenly, realisation washed over her. He wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to stay here, not just have vigorous sex like they'd done the night before. And that was unacceptable. Was that it? Had she figured his torment? She decided to change the subject entirely.

"How did you go blind?" she blurted.  
He blinked, and his throat bobbed.

"I was experimenting with poisons and their effects in Andorra," he said. "To prove myself to my teacher, I ingested a rare Blinding Poison with the promise that the antidote would fully restore my vision. But it only worked for my right eye. So I was left permanently half blind. It was a foolish mistake made as a young, over eager student of the Dark Arts."

Bellatrix's heart raced at the thought of him, youthful, on the Continent, learning all manner of Dark Magic.

"There are consequences to gaining power and knowledge," Voldemort said seriously to Bellatrix. "I have performed magic most people can't fathom, at a cost most people could never pay."

Bellatrix nodded and tipped her chin up as she guessed, "I presume I am to keep the story about your vision a secret, My Lord."

"Yes."

There was a long silence then, during which Voldemort studied Bellatrix's lips and hair, and she examined his blind eye and his seeing eye. She finally asked him,

"Are you certain I can't… you don't want anything tonight, Master?"

He scoffed a little, tipped his head, and purred, "Oh, I want it. A little too badly. So I shall go downstairs before all of this turns into something maudlin and stupid and overnight and… oh, for Merlin's sake."

He snatched her teacup and tossed it aside, spilling tea on her sofa and apparently not caring. He wrapped her up in his arms, snaking one arm around the small of her back and the other between her shoulders. He started to push her toward the wall, and Bellatrix backed up. She panted as her back hit the wall, and as her head smacked against the wallpaper, Voldemort crashed down against her in a deep kiss. He pulled her tongue into his mouth as one of his hands migrated to her breast. His other hand squeezed at her waist, and Bellatrix felt a buzz in her veins. He pulled back a little and murmured against her mouth,

"Don't go back to that house. Stay here at the manor. Master's orders."

She nodded frantically, wanting more kisses. She reached between the two of them, threaded her hand through his robes, and cupped his cock through his trousers. She fondled and caressed his growing erection. She touched and touched and felt him start to harden, and she stared into his eyes all the while. She leaned forward and up for another kiss, but he shook his head as his eyes rolled back a little. He ripped himself from her, stumbling backward, and he said quite firmly,

"Goodnight, Bellatrix."

_What?_  the voice in her mind screamed. Was he really going to leave right now? They were both worked up. Why didn't he take her into her bedroom and drill her into her sheets again? He stared at her like she was some kind of dangerous animal, though, and Bellatrix blinked as she remembered Narcissa walking in on them kissing. She thought of the thirty Galleons she'd spent on his Christmas gift, the feel of slapping Narcissa over what was going on, the way Voldemort had hinted that he would turn this all into something overnight.

Was this going too far? Was he panicking?

He glared into the bedroom, then back at Bellatrix, and he said more quietly,

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Master," Bellatrix nodded.

Voldemort shut his eyes and seemed awfully conflicted for a moment, as though he couldn't quite decide whether to stay or go.

"That down comforter you've got… it's quite warm and comfortable, I suppose?"

Bellatrix chomped her lip. "It is, Master."

He nodded, eyes still shut, and touched at his forehead.

"Goodnight," he said for the third time. Then he whirled on the ball of his foot and quickly strode back to the door, flinging it open and slamming it shut behind him.

Bellatrix leaned back against the wall once he'd gone, panting a little as she tried not to tear up. She closed her eyes and imagined what it might be like to be physical with him and then have him spend the night. It was such a bizarre thought, such a terrifying sort of notion, that she could almost see why Voldemort had experienced some panic at the idea of it. He'd fled because it had occurred to him at all that he might like to be beneath her down comforter. He'd torn himself away from Bellatrix because he'd had to Obliviate her sister, whom she'd slapped in public, because they'd been seen kissing.

All of this was getting just a little out of hand. And she was, after all, still the grieving widow of the husband she'd accidentally killed. She was his servant. He was the Dark Lord.

All Bellatrix could hope was that none of what had come to pass between herself and her master had been damaged beyond repair by panic or by Narcissa or by her talk of moving back home. She didn't want any of this madness to stop, as unfathomable as all of it was.

She would see Voldemort again at the meeting in two days' time. She would measure him there, she thought. She would get a read on whether he was cross with her or still interested in her. And perhaps, if he had faith in her as a soldier, he might give her a Christmastime mission.

**Author's Note: So, Voldemort's beginning to share stories/personal details with Bellatrix, but he's also panicking about getting a little too intimate. And Narcissa has suspected things for a while, but now she's seen proof and needed to be Obliviated. What a mess. Certainly hope she didn't go blabbing to Lucius or anyone else before Voldemort Obliviated her, right? What will he be like toward Bellatrix at the meeting? I'd love to know your predictions.**

**I apologize for the delay in updating. I really am quite ill with the Flu and Strep Throat, so I'm writing to the best of my ability right now. I greatly appreciate your patience and feedback.**


	14. Insubordinate

Bellatrix walked through the door of the house she had shared with Rodolphus. She'd come to test the waters. She hadn't been back here since the morning of the accident. House-Elves and Narcissa had taken care of fetching her clothes and toiletries after Rodolphus' death.

Bellatrix walked into the sitting room. The day of the attack on the Chudley Cannons, she and Rodolphus had been in here together, kissing up a storm. She remembered him pressing her up against the wall, then pulling away with a smirk on his face. He'd pulled his mask on, covering his living face for what she hadn't realised would be the last time. Bellatrix shut her eyes and tried to breathe him in, but he was gone.

Dinky, the House-Elf, was in the kitchen. Bellatrix barked at him to give her a glass of water. She carried it into the breakfast nook and sat down, sipping from the glass. She remembered eating grapefruit and prosciutto with Rodolphus the morning of the attack. She brushed her fingers over the table's surface and remembered other lazy mornings here. Rodolphus' hair would be mussed from sleep, his terry cloth dressing-gown wrapped around his bare chest as he chewed bacon and sipped tea.

" _You are so damned beautiful in the morning, Bells,_ " he would often say. Bellatrix stared now at the empty chair that had been Rodolphus', imagining him there, talking to her at breakfast, and her eyes welled. She stood, leaving her glass of water behind, and made her way out to the flight of stairs. She climbed slowly, feeling a pit in her stomach. Upstairs, she entered their light, airy bedroom to find that their bed had been neatly made. She walked by it and went into the bathroom.

Bellatrix stared into the mirror and could practically see Rodolphus standing there. He'd be cleaning his teeth, shaving, combing his hair… she could smell his shaving cream and his toothpaste. She could hear him mumbling about what he had planned for the day, or calling from the shower that he loved her. Bellatrix walked out into the bedroom and slowly climbed up onto her side of the bed. She curled up onto her side and drew Rodolphus' pillow against her face. She breathed in and could smell him, and suddenly she was overwhelmed.

She heaved with abrupt tears, shaking like mad as she gasped and absorbed the scent of him from the pillow. She just cried and cried for a good long while, and then finally she said out loud into the pillow,

"Tell me what to do, Dolph. Tell me what to do now that I'm alone. Do I come back here and live with your shadows? Do I stay at the manor?"

She hugged his pillow and cried some more as memories washed over her. She remembered waking up with him in this bed, falling asleep with their limbs tangled, kissing before drifting off to sleep. She remembered the vibrant green flash of her Killing Curse smacking into Rodolphus' form.

After a long while, her tears faded. Bellatrix mumbled against the pillow,

"Tell me what to do, Dolph. With him. With the Dark Lord. Now that you're gone, and he wants me, and I want him, what am I mean to do?"

She got no answer.

Suddenly, Bellatrix's Dark Mark burned badly. She was being Summoned. She flew to her feet and yanked out her wand. She cast a charm on her face to erase the blotchy evidence of all her crying. She Disapparated straight out of the bedroom, coming to in the gardens of Malfoy Manor. She raced through the gardens and trotted quickly up the steps, hurrying through the house until she reached the meeting room. She dashed into the meeting room, but Voldemort was the only one in there. He was sitting at the head of the table, so Bellatrix turned to him and curtsied low.

"My Lord. I thought we were having a meeting."

"We are having a meeting." He smirked just a little, and Bellatrix frowned in confusion.

"I am… early, then."

"No." He shook his head. "You are precisely on time. I've called you first.  _Colloportus._ "

She gasped a little as the doors behind her cinched shut and magically locked. Now Bellatrix threw up one eyebrow, feeling true bewilderment. Voldemort used one finger to beckon to Bellatrix, and she smiled a little bit as she approached him. She was shivering in her short skirt, boots, and black jumper beneath her open winter cloak. Voldemort stared up at her from his chair, and he said a bit gravely,

"Tell me that you have wanted me these last few days, Bellatrix, so that I do not feel a wretched fool in having done so for you."

Her mouth fell open. She nodded frantically and spoke her truth.

"Yes, Master. I have wanted you."

He nodded slowly. "Then come here and show me."

He reached into his robes and began to unbutton his trousers. As he stood from his chair, he pulled his half-hard cock out. Bellatrix froze where she stood. For some reason, sex felt wrong right this moment. She'd just spent a half hour cradling Rodolphus' pillow. She'd spent ten minutes staring into their bathroom mirror. But she gulped and moved toward the meeting room table, climbing up onto it and moving to the edge. She hooked her thumbs into her knickers and slid them down over her thighs. She wriggled them down past her knees and boots and balled up the knickers, setting them aside on the table.

She spread her legs a little, but she wasn't wet at all. She surreptitiously put spit on her fingertips and touched between her thighs. Voldemort reached for her wrist and dragged her hand to his cock, and her chest pulled a little as she wrapped her hand around him. She shut her eyes and massaged his shaft, pulling up to his tip and massaging there. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep fondling him like this. She wasn't sure why, but it felt wrong to touch his cock. Perhaps because she was distantly thinking about touching Rodolphus' bare body.

She guided Voldemort's tip between her legs, and she let out a little  _oof_  as he thrust deeply into her body. She wrapped her legs around him and gripped the edge of the table. Voldemort leaned forward and touched his forehead to Bellatrix's. He held her waist rather tightly, and he began to thrust vigorously. Bellatrix winced. She still wasn't wet enough. This hurt a bit. Bellatrix seethed and wrenched her eyes shut, and it began to burn and sting between her legs. She didn't like this. She craved Lord Voldemort very badly, just not right this moment. She'd literally come here straight from mourning her husband in their home. She buried her face into the crook of Voldemort's neck and clutched at his shoulders.

_Stop. Please stop,_  she thought. She'd want this some other time. She had been on fire for him two days earlier. What the blazes was the matter with her? Hadn't she been kissing him and wanting him badly when he'd come to her room a few nights earlier. She forced herself to soldier through it. He wanted her. He wanted this. He was her master. And he'd made her come twice the night of Rabastan's wedding. Obviously she liked this, didn't she? Obviously she  _wanted_  this wizard.

"Stop," Bellatrix whispered. She could barely hear herself over Voldemort's grunting. He didn't hear her. Suddenly he was coming, groaning loudly, and his hands were going up and down her torso. Bellatrix's mind was filled with a memory of Rodolphus whispering in bed that he loved her.

Voldemort made a move to kiss Bellatrix on the mouth, but then he saw that she was crying. He froze. He slowly pulled his cock out of her as she swiped at her cheeks with her hands, and he wandlessly Siphoned and Scoured up the mess between her legs.

"What is the matter?" He asked tightly. "Have I hurt you?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bellatrix sobbed. "I'm… it's… I've just come from my house, you see, and…"

"Oh." Voldemort dragged his thumb over his lip and silently tucked his cock back into his trousers. Bellatrix's heart raced, and she had no idea how to feel.

"It's only that I was walking round through all the spaces where he and I used to spend time together. I was lying in our bed, holding his pillow when you Summoned me."

"Oh." Voldemort cleared his throat and looked rather pink-cheeked. Bellatrix desperately continued,

"And so, whilst I am immensely attracted to you, Master, and I desperately crave you all the time, it's just that the timing today was a bit inopportune, and -"

"No further explanation is required," Voldemort snapped. "Put your knickers on."

He silently buttoned up his trousers as Bellatrix pulled on her knickers and climbed off the table. Voldemort pulled back his sleeve and pressed his wand to the Dark Mark, Summoning the others. There was a very awkward silence for a few moments, a weighty silence that seemed to permeate the entire room, until Voldemort asked,

"So, are you moving back to that house, or not?"

"No, My Lord," Bellatrix said, shaking her head. "I could hardly stand to be there today. I am not ready to live there alone. I mean to stay here."

Voldemort nodded. He hesitated for a moment.

"I am… erm… exceptionally sorry. I can't apologise properly for that. It was… I am very sorry. I did not mean to cause you such distress. I dislike seeing you in pain."

Bellatrix stared up into his eyes - the seeing one and the blind one - and he held his cheeks.

"I do want you, badly, all the time," she murmured.

" _Almost_  all the time, it would seem," Voldemort smirked back.

The doorknob rattled suddenly, and then someone knocked on the door. Bellatrix giggled just a little, stepping back and licking her lip. Voldemort aimed his wand at the doors and unlocked them, and Bellatrix staggered over to her seat at Death Eaters began pouring into the meeting room.

Rabastan Lestrange and Lancelot Greengrass came in together, and Lancelot sat beside Bellatrix. He had dusty blond hair and bright green eyes. His cheekbones were covered in pale freckles. He was handsome, about thirty.

"Bellatrix," Lancelot said merrily, "I'd meant to dance with you at Rabastan's wedding, but I couldn't quite gather the courage to ask with you."

Bellatrix wasn't quite certain what to say. Was Lancelot flirting with her? She gulped.

"So sorry, Lancelot. Perhaps at the next affair."

"Yes. The Malfoy New Year's party, perhaps?" Lancelot suggested. "Different sort of dancing, usually, but I should like to -"

"Enough. Silence." Voldemort looked cross and irritated. Bellatrix wondered if he'd overheard Lancelot talking about dancing. He seemed more than a little bothered today. He jumped straight to business in a tight, tense voice.

"We will be conducting attacks on random Muggles for the Christmas season. Space your attacks from now until Boxing Day. Blow up automobiles, set houses on fire, use Killing Curses. Get creative, but be very cautious not to get caught. Always cast the Dark Mark. The following Death Eaters have been assigned to this task: Avery, Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle, Lucius Malfoy, Rowle, Carrow, and Yaxley. Any questions?"

Bellatrix was in shock. She had not been included in the crew attacking Muggles. She slowly raised her hand, and Voldemort's eyebrows crept up.

"My Lord," said Bellatrix carefully, "you did not say my name among the others who will be attacking."

"No, I did not," he affirmed tersely.

"May I ask why I will not be included in this mission?" Bellatrix's ears went hot and her throat felt tight. Voldemort hesitated.

"We will discuss it in private."

Bellatrix seethed where she sat. She waited in silence as Voldemort spent the next ten minutes clarifying the logistics of the Muggle attacks with those assigned to the mission. Finally he called out,

"Dismissed. Happy Christmas."

Lancelot Greengrass paused when he stood before he left.

"So, I shall see you at the New Year's party? Have a happy Christmas, then, Bellatrix."

He was definitely flirting. Bellatrix just nodded and waited as the room cleared out. Once the door shut behind Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix asked Voldemort,  
"Master, why am I not permitted to attack the Muggles?"

"Because Christmas is already a complicated time. Add to it that it's your first one as a widow, and add to  _that_  that you accidentally struck your husband with a Killing Curse, and I must confess that I do not fully trust your state of mind on the mission."

Bellatrix scoffed quite disrespectfully and threw her hands up.

"You think I couldn't do it?" she demanded, and Voldemort's eyes went wide. Bellatrix felt like she was going to cry, and she asked, "You think I couldn't kill a dozen Muggles in one night for you?"

"Of course you can do that," Voldemort huffed. "Whether that's the best thing for you right now is another matter. This is my decision to make, Bellatrix, and my decision is final. I've put others on the mission. Your duty is elsewhere."

Bellatrix pinched her lips. "Where  _is_  my duty?"

He glared at her then, narrowing his eyes.

"You are insubordinate. You have become far too comfortable around me. Go up to your quarters. Now."

Bellatrix panicked all of a sudden. She flew to her feet, dipped into a low curtsy, and mumbled a frantic apology. She thought of the way she'd ruined sex with him, the way she'd questioned his judgment, and she felt ill. She hurried by him and hustled out of the room and down the corridor. She ran up the stairs and toward her rooms, flinging open the door and slamming it shut. She dashed through her sitting room and into her bedroom, flopping onto her bed. For the second time today, she sobbed into a pillow.

Her master was angry with her. He didn't trust her. She had made him uncomfortable and rejected him. He'd pulled her out of service again. He had called her  _insubordinate._  Now she had nothing and no one. Her husband was dead. Her master was furious. And all Bellatrix could do was lie on her back and let tears stream down her temples, landing on the pillow as she wondered how to go forward.

**Author's Note: Oh, my. Angst, angst, angst. Anyone else feel kind of bad for Voldemort right now? After all, he definitely didn't** _ **mean**_   **to make Bellatrix uncomfortable, and he did apologize. And it seems like he's keeping her off the Muggle attack mission because he's protective/worried about her. But now Bellatrix is a hot disaster mess, and right before Christmas. Will she get her ducks in a row in time to exchange gifts with Voldemort? Which of the two of them will make this mess right?**

**Thanks as always so much for reading, and a hundred thousand thank-yous for reviewing.**


	15. Christmas

" _This Christmas, my dear, you and I will be together. Surrounded by the joy and the love of the Yuletide season._ "

Bellatrix sighed as she sat on her sofa listening to the Wizarding Wireless. It was Christmas Eve, but she hadn't been this gloomy in quite some time. She thought of Rodolphus, of the way the two of them always used to string cranberries and popcorn by hand for their Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. But he was gone now, she reminded herself. This Christmas, Rodolphus was in his grave, and she was here alone.

" _We hate to break the festive mood, but we must bring to your attention the fact that there has been yet another vicious attack on Muggles,"_ said a scratchy voice over the Wireless. Bellatrix's attention pricked up. She turned her face toward the radio and raised her eyebrows. " _This attack happened in Oxford; two attached houses were set alight with their inhabitants inside. Five of the six Muggles in the houses escaped with their lives, though the houses burned down. The Dark Mark was seen in the sky over the Oxford houses, and Aurors rushed to the scene. By then, the perpetrator was long gone, though a later-Obliviated Muggle witness said she saw a figure in a silver mask and long robe setting the houses on fire with a wand. The Ministry of Magic condemns these ongoing attacks and asks anyone with information to come forward immediately_."

Bellatrix smirked as she wondered to herself which Death Eater had carried out that attack. She frowned then, for she realised once more that she had been pulled out of service and not permitted to participate. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered her colossal disappointment at the meeting days earlier, when Voldemort had announced the others' assignments and had left Bellatrix out. She felt useless now. She was jarred from her thoughts, though, by soft knocking on her door.

She walked with smooth steps over to the door and opened it, finding Narcissa there. Her sister looked festive in a red-and-black raw silk gown. Bellatrix knew she looked decidedly less Christmasey in her high-necked, long-sleeved gown of black velvet, with her hair pulled into a long braid over one shoulder. Narcissa was a Christmas dream. Bellatrix sighed.

"Time for the gift exchange with the Malfoys, and then dinner," Narcissa said meaningfully. "Won't you come downstairs?"

Bellatrix nodded and pulled her wand out of its holster. She nonverbally Summoned her gifts for Abraxas and Adelaide. She would give Lucius and Narcissa their gifts tomorrow at the Black family home. Abraxas and Adelaide got Christmas Eve with their son, and Druella and Cygnus Black got Christmas Day. Bellatrix was not exactly looking forward to Christmas dinner at her parents' house. For now, she would try to enjoy Christmas Eve.

She walked with Narcissa downstairs and into the burgundy parlour, where Abraxas, Adelaide, and Lucius Malfoy were all scattered across various seating. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and Abraxas sipped a firewhisky.

"Happy Christmas, Bellatrix," said Adelaide Malfoy warmly. Bellatrix nodded and mumbled a reply as she nervously handed Abraxas and Adelaide their gifts. Adelaide gave Bellatrix a soft-looking wrapped bundle in shiny green paper, and Bellatrix gratefully accepted it. She backed up a few steps and tore at the paper, revealing what appeared to be a folded black velveteen blanket. Bellatrix unfurled it and squeezed at it, feeling it warm under her touch.

"It's enchanted to warm up when you wrap it round you," Abraxas Malfoy noted, sipping his firewhisky. Bellatrix grinned, and Adelaide added,

"We know how much you like to sit in the library with a good book, or to listen to the Wireless."

Bellatrix folded up the blanket and sighed, saying self-consciously,

"Thank you. Truly. Thank you. Mr and Mrs Malfoy, I could never, ever properly thank the two of you for hosting me here in the wake of Rodolphus' death. Your generosity has meant everything to me. I couldn't repay you with all the gifts in the world. Just the same, I shall try with all my might to wish you a most happy Christmas with these meagre offerings."

Abraxas Malfoy went first, tearing open the wrapping of his gift and revealing his Magical Metronome. He marveled at the way it was an ornate antique, charmed to keep whatever time the musician dictated to it. Abraxas played the piano, and seemed quite happy with the gift. Then it was Adelaide's turn to open, and when she unboxed her strand of black pearls, Bellatrix watched an enormous smile cross her face.

"Oh, these are absolutely stunning," she breathed. Bellatrix twined her hands and explained,

"They're South Sea pearls, plucked from the ocean by Merpeople."

They glimmered round Adelaide's neck as Abraxas helped her put them on, and Narcissa and Lucius took turns complimenting Adelaide. Bellatrix gave Adelaide a stilted, stiff embrace and murmured,

"It was the least I could do, after all you've given me."

"Well. I think we could all use a good Christmas Eve dinner. What do you think?" Adelaide said. Everyone made their way to the dining room then, and Bellatrix felt her stomach rumble with hunger. Just as she was taking her seat, Lord Voldemort came striding through the door of the dining room. He was wearing heavy brocade and velvet robes in a festive deep green, and he looked marvelous. Bellatrix quickly stood at attention with the others. Voldemort smoothly moved to the head of the table, took his seat, and said almost jovially,

"Happy Christmas Eve to one and all. Please do sit."

Everyone sank into their seats then, and pomegranate-hazelnut brussels sprouts appeared on their plates. Their wine glasses filled wine a rich red, and Voldemort raised his glass. Everyone else did the same, awaiting his toast.

"I should like to kindly and warmly extend a Christmas greeting to the Malfoy family, who so generously and dutifully host their master and his headquarters. And I should like to wish a most merry and joyful Christmas to all here present, with the hope that the season brings with it newfound joy. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, My Lord." Bellatrix's eyes watered as she sipped her wine. She wasn't certain why his toast had made her so very emotional. She speared a brussels sprout, along with a hazelnut, and she chewed it. The others fell into quiet conversation.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Bella," said her master from beside her. She looked up to see him sipping his wine calmly. She blinked and nodded.

"Happy Christmas Eve, Master."

She took another bite of brussels sprout and thought about the way she'd spoiled their sexual encounter with her tears and her unwilling body. She thought of how she'd made him angry by being insubordinate, the way he'd sent her up to her rooms. She thought about these past few days spent in solitude, walking the gardens wearing his gloves and wishing he would think fondly of her again. Was he still cross with her, she wondered?

"Are those new pearls I spy round Adelaide Malfoy's neck?" he asked, popping a brussels sprout into his mouth. Bellatrix jarred. She nodded and smiled weakly.

"I could never, ever properly repay them for their generosity, Master."

"No. I know the feeling," he said.

They ate their brussels sprouts in silence as Lucius and Abraxas discussed Quidditch. Finally Voldemort said quietly,

"It feels as though, no matter what you gifted them, it would never be enough to earn the space and the food, hmm?"

Bellatrix let her lips part a little, and she nodded at him. "Quite so, My Lord."

The brussels sprouts gave way to the main course - crown roast with apricot dressing. Bellatrix's mouth watered as she cut into her meat.

"The menu is quite fine tonight," Voldemort noted. Bellatrix agreed,

"So it is. Perhaps Dobby deserves a Christmas bonus."

Voldemort smirked at that and took a few bites of his crown roast. Bellatrix did the same, flicking her eyes to him every now and then.

"I've a gift for you," he said at one point. Bellatrix stared.

"I thought you were quite angry with me. The last time we spoke, Master, you seemed to be quite cross with me."

"I was irritated with you," he corrected. "I am well over that. It is Christmas Eve, and I've a gift for you."

Bellatrix gulped. "I've got one for you, as well."

He raised his eyebrows. "Have you?"

"My Lord, what say you?"

"Sorry?" Voldemort snapped his attention away from Bellatrix. Lucius Malfoy patiently set down his knife and fork.

"On the matter of cats. We haven't any in the manor as of right now. Cissy is simply dying to have a lovely all-white cat. Would it bother you if she had one?"

Voldemort scowled. "Narcissa's pets are of no consequence to me."

Bellatrix eyed her sister. She was getting a cat because she couldn't have a baby, Bellatrix thought. Suddenly Bellatrix felt quite sorry for Narcissa. She cleared her throat and asked,

"What would you call your all-white cat, Cissy?"

"Snowflake," Narcissa answered at once with a grin. Lucius snorted and rolled his eyes.

"That is in the least creative name for a white cat I have ever heard," he complained.

"Well, what would  _you_  call it?" Narcissa demanded, and Lucius shrugged.

"I dunno… Icy."

"That's a silly name." Narcissa frowned. Bellatrix turned back to Voldemort and hissed,

"I should not have asked."

He laughed a little as Adelaide deftly changed the conversation topic. The main course faded from the plates and gave way to a rich chocolate cake with raspberries on top as accents. Voldemort pursed his lips and used his fork to push the raspberries away, off his cake. Bellatrix shook her head.

"You'd think they would know better than to serve you berries after the grand fuss I made over it."

"I'm sure the damned House-Elf added them," Voldemort said with a sneer. "It's fine."

He took a bite of chocolate cake and raised his eyebrows at Bellatrix as if to prove his point. She bit into her own cake, taking some raspberries and savouring the tart flavour. Voldemort surprised her then by scooping up his own raspberries and dumping them onto Bellatrix's cake. She smiled at him, and he curled up half his mouth at her. The two of them ate their desserts quietly after that. Abraxas eventually stood and wished everyone a very Happy Christmas Eve, most especially the Dark Lord, and people began to leave the dining room.

Bellatrix carried her warming blanket out into the corridor and up the winding flight of stairs, heading back to her suite. She was halfway down the corridor to her rooms when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned round to see Voldemort following her, pulling a slim wrapped box out of his robes.

"I told you I had a gift for you," he said rather impatiently. "May I come in, or is it too much trouble?"

"Oh. Of course, Master. Please." Bellatrix moved to her door and opened it, leading him into her sitting room as she lit the sconces. "Shall I make us some tea?"

"Peppermint, if you've got it," he replied.

"So I have," she affirmed. It was her favourite tea. Did he like it, as well? She went over to her tea cart and used her wand to fill her teapot with water, then to heat it. She put two peppermint tea bags into cups and poured the water over them, then called, "Sugar or milk, Master?"

"No. Just the peppermint," he replied, and she smirked a little. They took their tea the same way. She let the tea bags steep for a few minutes, sped up with a Steeping Charm, and then she Vanished them and carried the cups and saucers over to the sofa where Voldemort was now sitting. She handed him a cup with shaking hands and sat beside him, sipping at her tea and sighing.

"Bit chilly in here, isn't it?" he noted, and Bellatrix nodded. She aimed her wand at the small fireplace in the sitting room wall and Conjured flame, but it would take a while for the room to warm up. Then she remembered that she had a new blanket from the Malfoys. She reached for it off the low table where she'd set it, and she told Voldemort,

"It warms when you wrap it round you."

"Oh. How cosy." He chewed his lip, his face looking a little strange. Bellatrix considered for a split second asking him if he wanted to share it, but instead she just asked,

"May I use it?"

"By all means," he nodded, and she gratefully wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and snuggled into it. It immediately warmed against her skin, and she shut her eyes and moaned a little. When she opened her eyes, Voldemort was sipping his tea slowly, staring at her quite intently. Bellatrix set down her tea on the low table and aimed her wand at the shelving beside the fireplace.

" _Accio_ Gift for the Dark Lord," she said, and the wrapped box from Borgin and Burkes came flying at her. It was heavy, but she caught it, giggling a bit. She handed it over to Voldemort, who looked quite surprised by the size and weight of what he'd been given.

He unwrapped the striped paper and wandlessly Vanished it, then opened the box and pulled out the contraption inside. He seemed awestruck as he watched the sand fall through the water to form a picture of a crescent moon, then flipped it to create a night sky full of stars. He scoffed in wonder, flipping it a few more times as the coloured sand made new pictures inside the water, cascading magnificently each time.

"This is marvelous," he said sincerely. "I shall put it on my desk in my office and become supremely distracted all the time."

Bellatrix laughed a little and instinctively reached for the fingers he had on the device. He stared at their hands and then up at her, but she didn't let go. He finally nodded and mumbled,

"Thanks very much indeed, Bella."

She wanted a kiss just now. She wanted to kiss him so badly that she leaned toward him on the sofa. He seemed to sense it, and he set the box and the device aside on the table. Bellatrix neared him, and he took her face in his hands. He kissed her carefully, delicately, then deepened the kiss and brought her tongue into his mouth. She moaned softly, wanting more, but he released her and murmured,

"You've got to open your gift now."

"You're not cross with me for being insubordinate?" Bellatrix sat back slowly, and Voldemort shook his head.

"I've told you that I've moved past that irritation, Bellatrix."

"And you're not cross with me for ruining the sex we had in the meeting room?" she asked. He stared at her, his face blank.

"No," he said simply, "I am not cross with you about what happened between us in the meeting room, and I still feel a bit rotten about that."

Bellatrix shook her head, her eyes burning. Voldemort cleared his throat roughly, reaching for his own wrapped box and handing it to her.

"Thank you for my gift. Open yours, will you?"

Bellatrix tore the paper from the slim box and pulled the lid off, revealing an ornately decorated dagger. The hilt had inlaid jewels, and the silver was slightly tarnished, revealing age. Bellatrix gaped. She picked up the dagger and felt its enormous weight. She raised her eyes to Voldemort in confusion.

"This dagger is enchanted to kill without leaving a mark. Just like a Killing Curse," he explained. "You can stab your enemy straight through the ribs, and they'll die at once, but their body and clothing will seal right up. You could stab someone in the back and they'd bleed out, but there would be no visible damage. I thought you'd have fun with it."

"Fun," Bellatrix repeated breathlessly. Her eyes seared like fire. He'd pulled her out of service, but he'd given her this tool for killing as a gift. She stared at him and asked, "When may I use it, Master?"

"Very soon," he promised. "As soon as you've made it through the emotion of Christmas without him. I'll come up with a special mission, just for you, so that you can use it."

Bellatrix felt silent tears start to stream down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered frantically. "Thank you so very much."

She recklessly flung her arms around his shoulders then, not thinking about what she was doing as she kissed his jaw. He let out a low rumble of a laugh and asked,

"You like it, then, I take it?"

"Mmmm." Bellatrix began to kiss his neck, but Voldemort pulled her face away and stared into her eyes. He seemed to be searching her, and he finally smirked and suggested,

"Why don't you share that blanket of yours? Come lie in my lap."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide. She nodded and hesitantly moved to lie down with her head on his thighs. He arranged the blanket so that she was covered and his lap got some warmth, too. Bellatrix felt cocooned, by the warming blanket and by him, and as he started to play with her braided curls, she shut her eyes and just breathed in books and leather from him.

This was comfortable, she thought as he used magic to flick on the Wizarding Wireless. Carols were playing, and she listened absently as his fingers stroked at her scalp and toyed with her curls. This was quite comfortable. This wasn't frightening, or  _too soon_ , or any of those terrible things. This was Christmas. This was two happy people. This was a master and servant who knew their places but wanted a little more.

" _Unfortunately, we must interrupt the Christmas festivities with more terrible news about the attack in Oxford. The Muggle victim has been identified,_ " said the scratchy newsreader over the radio. " _Imogen Helmlsey died in the house fire set by the unknown Death Eater. Imogen's husband and two children survived. That is all the information we have at this time._ "

"Who was it?" Bellatrix asked softly as more carols began to play. Voldemort murmured back,

"Mulciber."

"Mmm," Bellatrix hummed. "When I use my new dagger, they'll talk about me on the Wireless."

Voldemort's hand stilled on her head. "You are my most ferocious soldier, Bellatrix. I did not keep you from these attacks for no reason. You must trust me. I shall put you back in very soon."

"You are always right," Bellatrix mumbled. "I ought to know that by now."

He caressed her jaw with one hand and her shoulder with the other. Bellatrix shivered a little at his touch, and he noted,

"I enjoy this. Holding you."

Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut and tingled from head to toe.

"I enjoy being held… by you."

He laced his fingers through hers and pulled her hand up, and she felt him kiss her knuckles.

"Bella," he said, and she breathlessly replied,

"Master?"

"I do quite like that sand art window… thing… that you've bought for me."

She laughed as she realised that he didn't know what to call it. Well, neither did she.

"I'm glad you like it, Master. I adore my new dagger," she said.

"You'll wield it better than anyone else could," he said matter-of-factly.

"Not half so well as you," Bellatrix argued, but Voldemort tutted,

"I'm not certain of that; you're more vicious than you realise."

"Do you like that?" she teased in a low voice. "How vicious I am?"

He was quiet then, and her eyes sprang open as she was quite concerned she'd offended him. He stared down at her and said seriously,

"Bellatrix, I like you far more than I ought to do."

She licked her lip and squeezed carefully at his hand.

"Does that make you angry?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No. It makes me…" He trailed off for a while. He huffed a breath and tipped his head. "If I were a weaker man, I would spend the whole of Christmas Eve naked with you in your bed, then send you off to your parents' in the morning with a kiss goodbye."

Her stomach clenched at the very notion of seeing him in the morning after a night spent together.

"Are you going to do that, Master?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"No, Bella, I'm not going to do that. I am going to hold you and tell you stories, and then I am going to kiss you goodnight and leave."

Bellatrix nodded, squeezing his hand again. Voldemort let out a long, unsteady sigh, and then he spoke.

"Once upon a time, there was a foolish young man called Tom Riddle who got a bit too close to an angry Murtlap."

 **Author's Note: Hoo boy. These two are getting emotionally intimate. But even as that's happening, it seems to spook Voldemort just a little bit, no? We heard Lancelot Greengrass mention a Malfoy New Year's Party… what's up with** _ **that?**_   **Any guesses as to what will happen** _ **there?**_   **On Voldemort's** _ **birthday?**_   **Mwah hahahaha. Oh, and Bellatrix should be getting an assignment to use that fancy new dagger pretty soon,** _ **and**_   **Severus Snape is due to become a Death Eater on January 9.**

**SO THERE'S A LOT COMING UP, GUYS!**

**Thanks as always for reading, and a massive, huge, enormous thanks for feedback. I really value reviews like gold because they let me know how readers are feeling and give me the pulse of the story. So thanks!**


	16. Auld Lang Syne

Bellatrix knocked carefully on Voldemort's door. It was the evening of New Year's Eve, and she'd received a message, brought by Dobby to her quarters, that she was wanted in her master's office. She rapped her knuckles four or five times and cleared her throat. The door swung open, and Bellatrix walked carefully inside.

"Hello," said Voldemort quietly. Bellatrix smiled warmly at him and bowed her head. Over the past six days, she'd seen him daily. Once, he'd found her out in the gardens, and the two of them had walked and chatted for almost an hour in the cold. Another time, he'd come and read with her in the library in quiet, comfortable quiet. On another occasion, he'd pressed her up against the wall of her sitting room and fingered her until she'd come. She'd massaged his cock in return, and he'd spilled himself on the floor between them. Just the day before, Bellatrix and Voldemort had been sitting in her suite, listening to the Wireless and quietly talking, when they'd begun kissing and hadn't stopped until they'd been panting and red-cheeked.

Narcissa was getting suspicious again, Bellatrix knew. She was aware that Bellatrix spent time alone with the Dark Lord. But at least she'd been Obliviated of her memory of walking in on Bellatrix kissing Voldemort. Now Bellatrix stood in Voldemort's office, and he beckoned to her with a single finger. She stepped into the dark office, feeling her skin tingle, and she listened as he stood slowly from his chair and said,

"It has been five days since the last attack on the Muggles. The Ministry has spent these last five days pulling its collective hair out. The news on the Wireless has been dominated; the  _Daily Prophet_  has been fixated. We need to ride the wave of this story for another week or so. Make Dumbledore squirm."

Bellatrix nodded eagerly. There had been four successful attacks on Muggles that had set the Wizarding world ablaze with fear and concern. Lucius' attack in particular had been especially violent; he'd flipped over an automobile with five passengers and had killed them all. Voldemort narrowed his eyes and continued,

"On the ninth of January, we shall be welcoming a new Death Eater, Severus Snape, into our ranks. I should like, at that meeting, to discuss the successful assassination of an Auror. Jasper Valley. He lives in Yorkshire. He has been a persistent thorn in our side, constantly showing up straight away at attacks and missions. He's also a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I'd like for you to go to his home and take him out for me."

Bellatrix smirked. "Shall I use my new dagger, My Lord?"

Voldemort tipped his head and nodded. "Mmm. I think you shall."

Bellatrix gleefully imagined sneaking into the home of an Auror, Stupefying him, and then stabbing him repeatedly with the dagger that would leave no marks. She grinned broadly as her heart sped up.

"Shall I go in a week, then, Master? To Yorkshire, with my dagger, to kill for you?"

Voldemort stalked slowly toward her. He lazily threaded his arms around her shoulders and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Vicious, wretched little warrior that you are," he murmured, "Yes, you will kill for me."

Bellatrix let her eyes flutter shut. Suddenly, for the first time in months, she didn't associate the act of killing with Rodolphus' death. Instead she thought of slaughtering Isla Asher. She thought of other missions in the past, where she'd thrown Killing Curses wantonly in battle and struck down opponents. She had killed for Lord Voldemort before, and she was going to do it again. She was going to murder Jasper Valley for him.

He kissed her, somewhat unexpectedly. She found herself swallowed up by a rather passionate kiss, and she absorbed it and leaned into it. She let him pull her tongue into his mouth, let him suck on it and nibble on her lip. She moaned a little and planted her hands on his chest, squeezing at his robes. She dragged her teeth over his lip and whispered onto his mouth,

"I'm wanting you badly right now, Master."

He let out a low chuckle. "Are you? Hardly as though we can go gallivanting through the manor right now; there's a party starting soon. Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"I was about to get ready," she smiled, staring up at him, "but then you summoned me here to tell me to kill for you. I don't mind, not even a tiny bit."

"Mmm. Well, you can get ready in a few minutes; I'm not finished kissing you yet," Voldemort smirked. He slid his hands up from Bellatrix's waist, over her ribcage, and caressed her breasts through her tunic. She gasped as he squeezed a breast and rubbed an arm, and then he pressed his mouth down to hers again. She kissed him hard and reached between them, knowing he'd be firm and wanting to touch him. She reached into his robes and began to fondle his erection through the thick material of his trousers. Voldemort grunted and pulled back from the kiss. He gave Bellatrix a sceptical look.

"Going to make me come on the floor like you did the other day?"

She tipped her chin up and raised her brows. "Perhaps I could get on my knees and swallow it for you. Master."

His jaw dropped, and he scoffed in disbelief. "Now  _that_  would be a birthday gift," he mumbled.

Bellatrix scowled in confusion. "Birthday?"

Voldemort's cheeks went red at once. He said nothing. Bellatrix repeated, more softly,

"Birthday, My Lord?"

"It's… I am fifty-two today," he said simply. "It is of no consequence."

"On the contrary, with all due respect, I think it is of enormous consequence," Bellatrix countered. Voldemort shook his head.

"I command you not to go spreading rumours or talking about this. The Dark Lord's birthday is not a topic of conversation. My mortal aging process is not a thing to be celebrated. Am I very clearly understood?"  
"Yes, Master." Bellatrix took a step back from him. All of his teasing from earlier had dissolved. He was angry now, she could tell. He hated his birthday. That much was clear. She blinked. Fifty-two. Why did he seem just a little bit younger? Or did he seem older? She gulped and murmured,

"I wish you a happy birthday, Master, but I do promise not to discuss it."

"We shall not speak of it again," he said quite solemnly. "Today is New Year's Eve and nothing else. Do you understand?"

"I understand, My Lord." Bellatrix shied back further, and he nodded crisply.

"You have your orders for killing Jasper Valley next week. I'll put together a dossier with his address and other pertinent information for you. Now, don't you have a New Year's Eve party to attend?"

Bellatrix demurred a little and knitted her hands together before her.

"It's just a stupid party thrown by Lucius and Narcissa," she insisted. "Poor Abraxas and Adelaide have aged out, I'm afraid."

"Yes; it's just you young folk, isn't it?" Voldemort raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "I should think my office will be positively vibrating with the latest rock music. Who's popular these days? Hamish MacFoggerty? Is that what he's called?"

"Hamish Togarty, Master," Bellatrix murmured with a little smile. He let out a long sigh and put his hands on her cheeks.

"How young you still are," he mumbled, "and how old I have become through these years. Go. Put your party dress on and get drunk with your sister. Go dance. He would have wanted you to dance tonight."

_He_. Rodolphus, Voldemort meant. Bellatrix's eyes welled heavily. She nodded a little and dipped into a curtsy with Voldemort's hands still on her cheeks. He bent to kiss her delicately, and then he murmured against her lips,

"I want to tell you something."

"Mmm." Bellatrix pulled her mouth from his and stared up at him. She stared into his cloudy, blind eye, into his clear seeing eye, and she listened as he whispered,

"Nevermind. Some other time. Go enjoy the party, Bella."

* * *

"Bella, you look divine!" Narcissa shouted over the Amplified Wizarding Wireless in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. All the young witches and wizards of Pureblood high society had gathered for tonight's New Year's Eve party, and the drinks were already flowing at half past nine. Bellatrix plucked a glass of red wine off Dobby's tray as he passed.

"Are you certain I don't look like a whore?" she shouted back at her sister, worried she'd gone too far in dressing for the occasion. Narcissa earnestly shook her head no. Bellatrix had dressed in a short black sequined dress with a black cape, and she'd tamed her curls with Sleekeazy's, piling them atop her head in an updo. She'd worn high black heels and Rodolphus' diamond jewelry. She'd heavily lined her eyes with kohl and wore the dark plum lipstick she'd bought on a shopping trip with Narcissa.

Now she practically chugged the red wine, and once she'd finished it, she set the empty glass down and let Narcissa get swept into a conversation. Aurora Lestrange, Rabastan's pregnant wife, walked up to Bellatrix and waved politely. Bellatrix grabbed a rum spritzer from a table of drinks and began sipping as she smiled at Aurora.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, and Aurora rubbed at her belly beneath her bright purple dress.

"Just fine!" she yelled back over the music. "Rabastan went to find me some Gillywater or something, since I can't drink properly."

"Oh. Right." Bellatrix took a big gulp of rum and soda, and Aurora laughed a little. Then her face warmed, and she nodded.

"Rabastan says you're doing so well. I am so pleased to hear it, Bellatrix. So glad that my sister-in-law is well."

_Sister-in-law._  Were they that? Bellatrix supposed they were, in a roundabout way, even if Rodolphus wasn't here anymore. She sipped more of her drink, nearing the ice cubes, and she said to Aurora,

"You were just the most beautiful bride on your wedding day. I wish Dolph had been there to see it. To see you marry his brother. He would have been so elated for the both of you; I just know it."

Aurora smiled sadly and nodded. Rabastan walked up then and handed Aurora a Gillywater, kissing her forehead as he did. He held a firewhisky in his own hand and asked,

"To what shall we drink?"

"To Rodolphus," said Aurora quite confidently, and Rabastan gave a knowing nod. He raised his glass.

"To my brother," he said. "To Rodolphus."

"To Rodolphus." Bellatrix lifted her rum and soda aloft and then drank the rest of it down, setting down her glass. Rabastan and Aurora went off to chat with other people, leaving Bellatrix alone with the stuffed mushrooms for a few minutes. She spent the next hour and a half chatting with old school friends, young Death Eaters, and various social climbing Purebloods. All the while, she sipped gin and tonics and wine until her head spun. She thought she'd escaped any obligation for dancing by the time it reached half past eleven. But then a voice beside her said,

"Hello, Bellatrix," and she turned to see Lancelot Greengrass looking a bit wobbly with some firewhisky in his hand. She pinched her lips and set down her plate.

"Hello, Lancelot," she nodded. "Come for your dance before midnight, have you?"

"Oh, you know me too well," he said. He set down his firewhisky and held out a hand. "Please, Bellatrix, will you dance just once with me?"

"I'm a widow," she shouted at him, and he frowned a little, his hand hesitating.

"I mean nothing untoward," he insisted. She finally huffed a sigh and took his hand, and she let him lead her out to the dance floor. Hideously, the next song to play on the radio was a ballad, and the dancing couples began to move into proper dancing stances. Lancelot seemed quite pleased about this. He put one hand on Bellatrix's back, and the other hand held hers tightly. He pulled her just a little too close, and then they began to sway to the two-step. Bellatrix tried to stare at his chest, but he wasn't exceedingly tall the way the Dark Lord had been, the way Rodolphus had been. So she found herself staring up into Lancelot's green eyes, and she gave him a nervous little smile.

"Those were some attacks on the Muggles, weren't they?" he prompted her, and Bellatrix nodded in agreement.

"Yes, particularly Lucius' attack. Fine work by all."

"I hear we're getting a new Death Eater. A young one. A Half-Blood." Lancelot raised his eyebrows, and Bellatrix scowled. The more she heard about this Severus Snape, the less she liked. A Half-Blood entering their ranks, completely untested, when the war was at its peak? Pah. But she took a steady breath and insisted,

"I trust the Dark Lord fully and completely. I'm sure that if he's determined Snape is a good fit as a Death Eater, then he's a good fit as a Death Eater."

Lancelot's cheeks reddened. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to question -"

"No, of course not." Bellatrix stared right into Lancelot's green eyes, and suddenly her breath caught.

She didn't want to be staring into crisp green eyes right now. She wanted a cloudy blind eye, a clear dark seeing eye. She wanted  _him_. She wanted her master, and she wanted him right now.

Bellatrix licked her lip as the song ended. She nodded her thanks to Lancelot and murmured,

"I'm feeling a little unwell. I think I'm going to go."

"Leave? You're going to leave? Are you all right? Shall I fetch Narcissa?" asked Lancelot. Bellatrix shook her head roughly.

"No. Thank you for the dance. It was wonderful. I shall see you at the meeting where we absorb Snape into our ranks. Right?"

"Right." Lancelot looked very uneasy. "Do you need help, Bellatrix?"

"No. I need to be alone right now," she insisted, and he seemed to get the message at last. Bellatrix squeezed his hand and walked away as briskly as she could, her legs unsteady from the drink. She moved toward the door and walked through the open threshold, toddling down the corridor in the direction of Voldemort's office.

When she reached his door, she knocked four times, but she could hear that he had his radio on inside. She knocked harder, more insistently, and suddenly she heard the radio volume decrease substantially. There were footsteps, and then the office door opened. Voldemort looked profoundly irritated at first, as though he wanted to know what drunkard would dare knock on his door. But then he saw Bellatrix standing before him, and his lips parted a little. He reached for her wrist and silently pulled her into his office, shutting the door behind her.

Before Bellatrix knew what was happening, she was being pressed against the wall and his fingers were trailing up the inside of her thigh. He bent and his lips met hers as the wireless droned in the background.

"Why are you here?" he murmured. Bellatrix gasped at the feel of his fingers pushing aside her knickers, at the way he was prying his way against her body. She grasped at his robes and whispered honestly,

"I wanted you."

"Why?" he demanded, twisting two fingers into her unexpectedly wet body and pressing his thumb onto her in circles. Bellatrix cried out a little, and he kissed her so hard that her head hit the wall. He squeezed at her waist and wrenched his mouth from hers as he demanded again, "Why did you want me?"

"Because Lancelot Greengrass felt stupid and insignificant when we were dancing, and all I could think was how badly I wanted you. I don't know. I'm sorry, Master." Bellatrix drove her head back against the wall and gasped when his mouth moved to her neck and began lathing there. She squealed when he suckled under her ear and massaged her clit harder than ever. She pumped her hips against his hand and held onto his arms so she wouldn't fall. They were still right by the door. They hadn't even gone all the way into the office. She bucked her hips as he hooked his fingers and dragged his tongue, and she hummed helplessly,

"I'm going to come."

"Did you leave that party so I would make you come, Bellatrix?" Voldemort asked against her neck. She smiled, laughed a little, shook her head, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I just wanted… I just… oh…  _oh, oh!_ " Bellatrix's hands convulsed on Voldemort's arms as she flushed sopping wet round his fingers. She came hard, her knees giving out a little. Her ears rang and her eyes squeezed themselves shut as her walls contracted tightly. Why did he like to do this, Bellatrix wondered? Why did he like to finger her like this?

"Bloody fucking hell," she heard him mumble, and she slowly opened her eyes to see him rather frantically yanking his hands from her and shoving his robes aside. He threw his head back and made a move to unbutton his trousers with shaking, wet fingers, but he emitted a guttural sort of noise, and Bellatrix watched as the lump in his trousers twitched and a dark, wet spot appeared.

No. Surely not.

Not just from touching her. Not at age… what was he today? Fifty-two? Surely a fifty-two-year-old man did not have a hands-free orgasm in his trousers solely as a result of fingering her. Bellatrix gaped as Voldemort panted his way through the climax. It seemed deep and complete, and finally he stared at her with bleary eyes and announced,

"You interrupted a work in progress when you knocked on my door. So."

"A work in progress," Bellatrix repeated, feeling a little confused. Voldemort cleared his throat and pulled his wand out, Siphoning up his mess and saying delicately,

"I was sitting in my office chair touching myself quite vigorously, and was quite on the verge of completion, when someone knocked on my door. So I suppose I ought not be surprised that that's all it took."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go round as she realised what she'd interrupted. She felt utter humiliation, and she stammered,

"I'm so… I do apologise, Master, for -"

"I was thinking of you," he said simply, and now she couldn't breathe. She'd touched herself to thoughts of him, of course, but the idea that he would do the same was… overwhelming. She licked her lips and nodded.

"Oh. I see."

"I was thinking of washing your body in the shower in my quarters," Voldemort said matter-of-factly, almost sternly. "I think I should like to do that sometime soon."

Bellatrix's breath hitched oddly in her nostrils. She nodded. "Yes."

" _There are only thirty seconds before midnight, so best find yourself someone to share it with!_ " said the voice on the Wizarding Wireless. Bellatrix stared at Voldemort, wondering if he was going to kiss her at midnight. She didn't want to kiss Lancelot Greengrass. She couldn't kiss Rodolphus.

"Come here." He took her hand and led her out into the main space of his office, and he drew Bellatrix up against him before his fireplace. He flicked his hand at his Wireless and wandlessly turned the volume back up a little.

" _Ten! Nine! Eight!_ " cried the voices on the Wireless, and Bellatrix could hear the crowd at the party all yelling in unison. She stared up at Voldemort as he held her cheeks in his hands and looked quite serious.

"I have something to tell you," he said. Bellatrix frowned a little and nodded.

" _Seven! Six! Five! Four!_ "

"Bella." He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and looked her up and down, apparently impressed by what she was wearing.

" _Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_  All the voices from down the hall screamed out in glee, and Bellatrix heard the  _pop-pop-pop_  of Zonko's Indoor-Safe Fireworks. Voldemort closed the gap between them and kissed her carefully, deeply, in a way that felt meaningful and real. Bellatrix hummed her satisfaction into the kiss, and as he pulled away, the radio and the partygoers began a rousing chorus of " _Auld Lang Syne._ " Bellatrix found herself staring straight up into Voldemort's cloudy blind eye and his clear seeing one as she listened.

" _Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?"_

"What did you need to tell me, Master?" Bellatrix asked softly, wondering if she was in some kind of trouble. He studied her for a long moment, as though he were considering whether or not to tell her, after all.

" _Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne?_ "

"Bellatrix." Voldemort cleared his throat roughly and pulled out his wand, aiming it at the Wireless. He shut it off, and the office was quiet except for the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the party down the corridor. Bellatrix felt anxious now, but she nodded. Voldemort tucked his wand away and said,

"You… you  _matter_  to me."

Bellatrix had no idea what to say to that. She blinked a few times, thinking she might cry. She tried desperately to speak, but mercifully Voldemort elaborated.

"People in general do not matter to me. People are of little consequence. Whether someone lives or dies only affects me if their death benefits me or if their service is useful. But people themselves do not matter to me, Bellatrix. They never have, and they never will. I am not a sentimental man, and I pride myself upon that characteristic. I am not a maudlin creature. I do not dwell on the emotions which tie up the attentions of so many others. But this I can say with full confidence, unashamedly, having arrived at the conclusion after some length of careful consideration: you matter to me."

Tears were streaming silently down Bellatrix's cheeks at this point, and when she swiped at them, she knew she'd have kohl eyeliner trailing messily on her face. If she did, Voldemort didn't point it out. Instead, he reached for her fingers, and he ordered her,

"Stay the night."

"Master," she said, choking a little laugh, "I live here. For now."

"No, I mean… stay the night with me. In my quarters." Voldemort raised his eyebrows at her, and she gasped a bit. She dragged her teeth over her lip and wondered what he had in store for her. He answered her question when he pointed out,

"It's late, and I'm spent, but I've quite a comfortable bed promising sleep to a witch who's had too much rum and gin and wine, and perhaps in the morning there might be a bit of fun… if that's what I want."

He seemed to add that last bit to stay in control, and Bellatrix quickly nodded. She said in a shaking voice,

"We'll have to wait for the party to clear out before we go."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and tipped his head.

"I am Lord Voldemort," he said stiffly. "I do not hide from anybody. We'll go now. Come with me, Bella."

"My Lord?" she said as they neared the door, and as he glanced over his shoulder, she said timidly, "I hope you had quite a good birthday, even if you kept it secret."

He smirked a bit and nodded. "The best bit was the very end. Let's go."

**Author's Note: My most sincere apologies for the delay in uploading. We have been having some extremely frightening and severe medical issues in my family that have kept me from writing the last few days. I do apologize and thank you so very much for your patience. I hope this was worth the wait. So, Bellatrix** _ **matters**_   **to Voldemort, and she's going to spend the night. Anybody interested in seeing the sleepover? Ha! And, oh, we get to see Bellatrix commit gleeful murder with her dagger soon - how will** _ **that**_   **go? And what about Severus Snape becoming a Death Eater? So much happening. I promise these next few chapters will have a lot going on!**

**If you could please take a quick moment to leave your thoughts, I'd be very grateful.**


	17. Surprise

Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort walked right by the raucous party. She obediently stayed three paced behind her master as they walked down the corridor past the ballroom filled with thumping music and turned a corner. They walked down another long corridor, past curious-looking portraits. Bellatrix saw a pair of double doors at the end of this hallway, and Voldemort reached out his hand to wandlessly open them. Bellatrix realised then that he'd been granted one of the main suites in the manor. Well, of course he had.

Inside the double doors, Bellatrix was met with a private reception space, a small compartment through which there was another door. Voldemort pushed open the second door, and together they walked into his enormous common area. Bellatrix took a moment to stand still in the centre and just admire everything. There was a library with hundreds of books on shelves and two armchairs before a small fireplace. There was a bar area with bottles lined up on shelves and two stools at a marble counter. There was a small guest bathroom in white marble, and a large sitting area with two sofas, two armchairs, and a fireplace. Bellatrix marveled at the space. This was an apartment fit for the Dark Lord. Everything was done up with black as the base, with accents in silver, white, and plum. Beyond the closed double doors, she assumed, was the bedroom.

"Would you care for a drink?" Voldemort offered, but Bellatrix let her lips fall open a bit, and she hesitated. She was still tipsy, perhaps even a bit drunk.

"I probably ought not have anything more to drink, Master," she said. He raised his eyebrows and suggested,

"Water?"

She nodded vigorously, not realising until then just how thirsty she was. Voldemort gave her a knowing look. He walked to the bar and filled a large glass with water from the tap. He used his wand to Levitate it to Bellatrix, who caught it and guzzled it down far more quickly than she'd expected to do. She was thirsty beyond belief. Voldemort Summoned the glass back and filled it again, sending it back to her. She drank the water down once more, and this time when he Summoned the glass, he filled it for himself and drank.

"Thank you, My Lord," Bellatrix said gratefully. She ambled over toward the library space and began examining the books on the shelves. She recognised a few of her favourite titles, as well as some copies that looked more than a little intriguing. Bellatrix guided her fingers along the spines of the books and murmured,

" _Grindelwald's Rise: The 1920s in Wizarding Europe… Necromancers of Renaissance France… Cauldrons For Poisoning_. Might I borrow a few of these books sometime, Master?"

Voldemort smiled, seeming happy at her interest. He strode up beside her and pulled out the three books she'd mentioned. He stacked them and handed them to her.

"They're yours."

Bellatrix stared at the books in awe and slowly took them.

"I shall return them shortly, Master."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "They're yours. I… I've had those ones for years; I don't need them anymore. Keep them, if they interest you."

Bellatrix's eyes burned. "Thank you, Master."

She set the books down on the ledge then, for he went to the sliding double doors that led to his bedroom and opened them. Bellatrix followed behind him, and she saw in the bedroom a stout square four-poster bed in black. It had crisp white linens and white curtains. There was another bathroom, this one with shiny black tile. Voldemort stood at his black lacquered wardrobe and began to undress. He started to shamelessly strip off his outer robe, his tunic, his shoes, and his trousers. Bellatrix gaped and marveled as he hung up pieces in his wardrobe. He was so tight and lean and muscled, scar tissue wending its way around his hard body. He pretended not to notice the way she was watching, staring, ogling. He pulled on a pair of loose black linen trousers and tied the front, and he mumbled,

"I suppose you can't sleep in that. I'm afraid if I Transfigure it for you, it'll go the way of your gloves and never turn back and you'll lose a dress."

He smirked, and she laughed. They both knew he could easily reverse his spell, and the dress would change back. He quickly transformed her little black sequin party dress into a more comfortable, flowing black nightgown. Bellatrix kicked off her elaborate black heels and used her wand to Surreptitiously Scour her makeup from her face.

"Those gloves," Voldemort said offhandedly, shutting his wardrobe, "Are they leather still? All this time later?"

Bellatrix smiled weakly at him and nodded. "I am not looking forward to the day they turn back into leaves. I have grown quite accustomed to wearing them, and I quite like them. Every day I check to be sure they're still gloves. I've become a bit neurotic over it."

"If they change back into leaves, I shall make you new ones," he promised. Bellatrix grinned. Voldemort quietly excused himself to the bathroom at that point, and he shut the door behind him. Bellatrix heard the sink running, and she used the opportunity to Scour her teeth. She stared at the bed. Her heart pounded at the idea of sleeping with Lord Voldemort. Where was Rodolphus in her mind, she wondered? She could barely think of him right now.

Voldemort came out of the bathroom and gestured for Bellatrix to go in. She shyly passed by him, shutting the door and trying to make the least amount of noise humanly possible as she relieved herself and washed her hands. Her abdomen cramped uncomfortably, and she wondered whether the crab she'd eaten at the party had been good or not. She stared into the mirror at how her hair was still up, and she began to pull it down from its updo. She Vanished all the pins except for her treasured decorative crystal and black one, which she set aside on the sink. She shook out her curls and walked out of the bathroom, forgetting her hairpin.

Out in the bedroom, Voldemort was peeling back the blankets and climbing into the bed. Bellatrix carefully did the same, her heart pounding like a drum. She lay facing him, staring at him as their breath mingled. He was calm. She was not. She finally asked,

"Will you tell me a story, Master?"

He curled up half his mouth and nodded on the pillow.

"Once upon a time, there was a wizard called Tom Riddle who learnt how to make something quite dangerous. These things would preserve his magic, his very being, in a way nothing else could do. They were the Darkest magic imaginable. And once he learnt how to make these things, little Tom Riddle made them in earnest. And he fell apart at the seams for it. His mouth twisted, and he became laced with scars that ran all over his chest and arms and neck and face. His hair went grey and fell out. His skin went yellow and waxy. But he didn't care, because he was protected and strong. He was Lord Voldemort."

Bellatrix blinked, wondering what it was he'd made. "That is a very interesting story."

She glided her fingers over the rough round scar above his heart, the knot of circular tissue, but he shook his head.

"No; that one came from a hex thrown at me by an angry wizard in Madrid. In a duel. I was… very drunk. Lucky to survive that one."

"That's an interesting story, too," Bellatrix noted. "Are all your stories true?"

"Even the ones I wish were false," he affirmed quietly. "Now you tell me a story."

Bellatrix hesitated. "I haven't got anything interesting to say."

He scoffed. "That can't be true."

Bellatrix thought hard, staring into his blind eye and then his seeing one. She nodded at last and whispered,

"Once upon a time, there was a schoolgirl called Bellatrix who heard all about a terrifying rising figure called Lord… Lord… well, you. Serving him meant danger, she understood. Maybe even killing. She wanted to be a soldier more than anything else in all the world. And she would lie awake at night in the Slytherin dormitory and practise the wand movements for the Unforgivables. She would dream of all the wonderful, awful things she could do once he was her master. She couldn't wait to promise him everything. Every day, she itched more for it. For him."

"I like that story," Voldemort told her. "Is it true?"

She nodded, and he pulled her face against his. He began to kiss her, very gently at first, then more ardently. He pulled her tongue into his mouth and suckled, licking and then biting her lip. He pulled her body up against his, and she hooked a leg over his hips. Soon she began slowly humping his growing erection, moaning into his mouth and grinding her clit onto the feel of his hardening cock. She panted when he pulled his mouth away, and she whispered,

"I want to ride you. Master…"

"Mmm. Do you?" He looked very hungry. He hooked his fingers into her knickers and slid them down, and Bellatrix groaned. She threw her head back and pumped her hips onto Voldemort's hand when he put it between her thighs. Her abdomen ached, but she chalked it up to anticipation. His fingers started to move on her, to slide around her folds, and she hummed,

"I'm going to grind on your cock until you spill your come up inside of me, My Lord."

"Oh. Do not stop talking like that." He sounded just a bit unhinged then, and Bellatrix frantically squeezed her eyes shut as he twisted two fingers up into her body and drew circles with his thumb.

"I'm going to be stretched by your cock, Master," Bellatrix whined, and Voldemort grunted, grinding his erection onto Bellatrix's thigh. It was all overwhelmingly amazing, and then suddenly Bellatrix felt a nasty, sharp cramp in her lower abdomen, accompanied by a sudden surge of soaking wet heat.

"Wait. Wait." Bellatrix sat bolt upright, yanking Voldemort's hand out of her body and flinging back the blankets. She gasped in absolute horror.

She'd gotten her period right there in front of him. Worse than that, it had come with his hand buried inside of her. His hand was covered in her blood. His sheets were a mess. Bellatrix burst into frantic, mortified tears. She couldn't breathe through it as she felt like she was going to vomit.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort said, looking like he was going to laugh, "Why are you  _crying?_  This is all perfectly natural. But my wand hand is a bit… erm… could you do the Siphoning and Scouring?"

"Oh, Merlin's Beard. I am so sorry," she panted. "I shall leave at once. As soon as I clean up."

He scowled. "Leave?"  
"Of course. I'm so sorry.  _T-Tergeo._ " Bellatrix aimed her shaking hand at Voldemort's messy fingers. " _Tergeo. Scourgify. Scourgify Maxima._  Pardon me, please."

She dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door. She sat on the toilet and cast an Absorption Charm upon her body to catch and Vanish the blood. She cleaned up between her legs as best she could, then just sat on the toilet and sobbed. When at last she went out to the bedroom again, her face feeling blotchy and ugly, Voldemort had his wand in his hand. He'd cast a few more cleansing spells and looked peaceful.

"All's well. Come back to bed," he said.

"No; I couldn't possibly." Bellatrix shook her head. "I shall -"

"Are you disobeying me?" Voldemort asked sharply. Bellatrix froze. She climbed quietly back into the bed. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, explaining,

"I lost track of the days, with Christmas and everything."

Voldemort snorted a little laugh. "You seem as though you think I should be cross over a natural function of human anatomy."

"I am very good at ruining sex, apparently," Bellatrix pointed out. She turned her head. "I could use my mouth."

"Not right now." Voldemort laughed a little and shook his head. "There's all the time in the world, Bella; I am untroubled."

He reached for her hand beneath the sheets and added,

"I am not a squeamish man."

Bellatrix rolled onto her side and stared at Voldemort.

"I was dancing with Lancelot Greengrass, but I wanted you."

He smirked at her. "I was probably touching myself to the thought of you at the moment you were dancing with Lancelot Greengrass."

She grinned in spite of what had happened. "I don't know why, but that thought makes me so happy."

They lay in peaceful quiet for a while then, as Voldemort played with Bellatrix's hair and she stroked at his jaw. She sighed.

"What if Cissy finds out again? About this? About the kisses and everything else?"

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "I've half a mind to kiss you square on the mouth at the next meeting so there's confusion."

Bellatrix blinked. "Confusion?"

"I dislike hiding," he explained. Bellatrix began to feel weary after that, and she knew it was early morning now, so she shut her eyes and felt sleep start to take over.

"Bella?"

She opened her eyes and saw that he was nearer than he'd been. He kissed her forehead and informed her,

"You are significant to me, and so I shall keep you close to me. Understood?"

"Understood, Master," Bellatrix nodded, before letting sleep take over again.

In the morning, she woke to find that he was already out of bed. She rose quickly and used magic to make the bed. She Scoured her teeth and Transfigured her nightgown into a simple tunic dress. She went out into the sitting room to find Voldemort there with a glass of orange juice and a book.

"Morning," he said primly.

"Have I slept in?" Bellatrix asked carefully.

"Only a little," Voldemort teased. "You seemed tired, so I let you sleep. Juice?"

She shook her head, feeling bewildered, and insisted, "I should go, Master; I've overstayed my welcome, I'm sure."

Voldemort rose and handed her the stack of three books she'd selected from his shelves the night before.

"Let me know what you think of them," he nodded. "I'll get you that dossier on Jasper Valley later today or early tomorrow so you can begin planning your attack."

He kissed her forehead and said quietly,

"I am… I am glad you stayed."

"Mess and all?" Bellatrix asked up to him, and he smirked and nodded, tucking curls behind her ear.

"Mess and all."

As Bellatrix was leaving his quarters, shutting the double doors behind her, she froze. Narcissa and Lucius were walking through the corridor outside, appearing to have come out of a parlour. They turned when the door shut, and when they saw Bellatrix, they just stared.

"Hullo," Bellatrix said dumbly. Her sister stared at her husband, who looked like he wanted to disappear into the wall. Bellatrix lied, "I was… The Dark Lord just gave me some books."

"Did he?" Narcissa asked incredulously. Lucius said cautiously,

"We missed you for midnight at the party last night, and couldn't find you afterward."

"I was feeling unwell," Bellatrix snapped.

Narcissa glanced down to Bellatrix's shoes - the same decorated high-heeled black shoes she'd worn to the party the night before. Bellatrix realised at once that she'd been caught. She shut her eyes and insisted,

"It isn't… it's far more complicated than it appears."

"Yes, I'm certain it is," Narcissa said softly. Bellatrix felt a little angry then, and she growled,

"And, really, it is none of your business."

"No. It certainly is none of our business," Lucius agreed.

"Lucius. Narcissa."

Bellatrix whirled as the double doors opened and Voldemort came striding out of his quarters. Bellatrix panicked at once. Was he going to Obliviate Lucius and Narcissa? Would he hex them? But he just calmly walked up beside Bellatrix and put his hand on her shoulder, and he said,

"I had forgotten to give this back to you when you woke. You left this decorative hairpin on the sink; I assume you took it out last night."

He handed her her black and crystal hairpin, and Bellatrix could scarcely breathe. She shut her eyes as he bent to kiss her lips swiftly.

"I'm off to my office. I'll get you that dossier we discussed, Bella. Good day, Lucius. Narcissa."

He walked off and turned the corner as Lucius bowed and Narcissa frantically curtsied. Bellatrix gripped her hair pin and stared at the ground, her eyes feeling like they would erupt with tears at any moment. Finally she heard Narcissa say quietly,

"You know I wish you nothing but happiness, Bella."

"Thanks, Cissy," Bellatrix mumbled, and she jabbed the hair pin into her curls as she walked briskly past her sister and brother-in-law, toward the stairs that led up to her own quarters where she could actually dress for the day.

**Author's Note: Is that a Possessive Voldemort I sense? And also one who's endearingly understanding of humiliating circumstances? Hmm. Next up, we'll see Bellatrix on her mission to slay an Auror using her nifty new weapon. What could possibly go wrong?**

**This story is getting excellent readership (yay!) but really minimal feedback (boo!) so if you could help that situation by taking a quick moment to leave even the most quick and simple review, I'd be super grateful. Thanks so much!**


	18. Dagger

Bellatrix pulled on her leather gloves and tied up her heavy, fur-lined winter cloak. She slid her wand into the holster at her hip beneath her cloak and stared at herself in her full-length mirror.

She was going to kill Jasper Valley tonight.

She moved to her bed and picked up her tarnished silver dagger, the jeweled one Lord Voldemort had gifted her at Christmas. She buckled the leather belt-like holster around her waist and slid the dagger in. Voldemort had given her the leather belt holster two days earlier for this mission. He'd made it himself, he'd said.

In the days following Narcissa's and Lucius' discovery that Bellatrix had spent the night in the Dark Lord's chambers, Bellatrix would have expected secrecy and care to conceal what was going on. Instead, Voldemort seemed to take pride in what was happening between himself and Bellatrix. He kissed her ardently in the library one day with the door wide open. He flirted a little ostentatiously with her at dinner, even reaching for her hand at one point as they laughed at a shared joke. He brought her more books to her quarters and stayed for hours, kissing and groaning on her sofa and not caring who saw him leave.

All the while, Bellatrix struggled to think of Rodolphus. She tried to remember that, just a few scant months earlier, she had been married to a man who had loved her and had spoken softly to her in the grey light of early dawn. She tried to remember dancing with Rodolphus, making love to him, kissing him, holding his hand. And she could remember it, all of it, quite fondly. But it seemed distant. It seemed over now. Dolph was really and truly gone. She could never bring him back. She could never undo the Killing Curse that had struck him down. She would never have those early morning kisses back, or those dances, or that laugh of his. He was gone. Forever. And for some reason, Bellatrix was finally coming to grips with the notion that he was really, truly gone. She was finally feeling like she'd mourned him into leaving her at last. She would always miss him terribly. She would always feel guilty about the way he had died. But now she could begin, she thought, to live again.

Tonight, her own living meant someone else dying. Her own living meant carrying out the orders of her lord and master. She needed to go to Yorkshire, to the small cottage where Jasper Valley lived alone. He was an Auror of about fifty-five, a bachelor rumoured to be interested in wizards instead of witches. He had six pet cats, the dossier said. Bellatrix put her mask on now, carefully sealing it to her face as she pulled up the hood of her winter cloak. She couldn't let even the cats see her, just in case. Jasper Valley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and as far as Bellatrix knew, he would be alone at home tonight. Just the same, she was going prepared for a fight. He might wake and duel her the way Isla Asher had done.

Bellatrix studied her masked face in the mirror and nodded crisply. She pulled her wand back out and held it in her right hand, and then she pulled the dagger out and held it in her left hand. She stalked through the bedroom and sitting room and opened her door, and as she moved through the corridor, she heard a portrait say,

"My goodness; she looks terrifying!"  
"Bella?" Narcissa was walking down the corridor at the bottom of the stairs. She saw Bellatrix in her mask, and she eyed the wand and dagger. "Off on a… a mission?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix from behind her metal mask. "Wish me luck."

"Well. Good luck, then," said Narcissa, looking very afraid. Bellatrix huffed a steadying breath and hurried off, down the corridor and past Voldemort's office.

"Bella."

She whirled around at the sound of Voldemort's voice. She quickly bowed her head and dipped into a curtsy, her cloak billowing out about her.

"Master," she said from behind her caged mouthpiece. He stared at her for a long moment as she rose, and he smiled a little.

"You are incredibly beautiful like this," he said, "Masked. Holding your wand and your dagger. Off to kill for me."

Bellatrix grinned under her mask. She adjusted her grip on her dagger and her wand, and she said softly,

"I shall try to make you proud, Master."

"You very usually do," he said, and there was a strange warmth in his eyes. "Go. I await news of your success."

Bellatrix hurried out to the Apparition Point after that. She shut her eyes and thought of Jasper Valley's little cottage in Yorkshire, the one of which she'd seen a photograph. She Disapparated, going through the black, pinching whirl and coming to in a cold, deserted road where it was dark and flurrying. Bellatrix stared at the little cottage before her and smirked. She neared it and felt a strange lack of protective wards and enchantments. Odd, she thought. She would have been certain that an Auror, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, would have his home locked up like a Gringotts vault. But… nothing. She strode straight up to the door and aimed her wand at the handle, whispering,

" _Alohomora._ "

The red painted door swung slowly open with an obnoxious creak, and Bellatrix frowned. She pushed the door open and shut it as quickly and quietly as she could. But almost at once, she heard a voice call from the far right of the cottage,

"Albus, is that you?"

_Albus?_  Albus Dumbledore? Bellatrix's heart sped up in her chest. Jasper Valley was lying in bed wondering if the creak in the door was from Albus Dumbledore? She adjusted her hold on her wand and her dagger and walked slowly toward the voice she'd heard. Her mission was to kill Jasper Valley. That was what she was going to do. But she was halfway down the cramped corridor when she heard a voice behind her.

"Bellatrix. My condolences on the loss of your husband."

She whirled, jabbing her wand straight at Dumbledore's throat. She opened her mouth to utter a Killing Curse, but Dumbledore shook his head and whispered,

" _Silencio._ "

Bellatrix's spell died on her lips. Furious, she glared at Dumbledore, at his half-moon spectacles and his pale eyes.

"Albus?" called Jasper's voice.

"Out here, Jasper," Dumbledore said calmly. Bellatrix struck then. She swung her dagger up and stabbed it down as hard as she could. But Dumbledore recoiled backward in an awkward motion, and instead of hitting his chest, Bellatrix's dagger plunged into Dumbledore's thigh. Dumbledore staggered backward as the blood on Bellatrix's dagger blade dissolved into Nonbeing. He fell and gripped at his thigh, crying out in pain.

"Albus!" Jasper Valley came stumbling out of his bedroom. Bellatrix whirled onto him, jutting her wand forward and screaming out a Killing Curse. But her voice was still Silenced by Dumbledore's spell, and she could do nothing. She tried to nonverbally murder Jasper Valley, but it was no good.

"Albus, are you all right?" Jasper yelled, and Dumbledore cried,

"Take her in, Jasper!"

Jasper Valley aimed his wand at Bellatrix, and she knew she had a split second to escape. If she didn't leave right now, she would wind up in Azkaban. She watched as Jasper Valley raised his wand to her and opened his mouth. She lunged quickly and stabbed her dagger at his throat, plunging it as quickly and efficiently as she could into his neck. Jasper collapsed, dropping his wand. Dumbledore staggered to his feet and aimed his own wand at Bellatrix, but she quickly Disapparated.

When she came to outside Malfoy Manor, she ripped her mask off her face and gasped. Her voice had come back in the process of Apparition, and she screamed out into the night,

"Dumbledore, you bloody bastard!"

Bellatrix sprinted toward the manor, running as quickly as her feet would take her, running until her lungs burned. She flung open the front doors and practically knocked Dobby over as she dashed through the front foyer and up the steps. She ran down the corridor that led to Voldemort's office, and there she banged with a fist upon his door until it opened and he stood there staring at her with raised eyebrows.

"Well?" he asked, and Bellatrix let out a shaking, breathless noise.

"Master, may I please come in?"

"Yes." He looked uneasy and stepped aside. She slid past him, and once she was in his office, she set her mask on his desk. The last time she'd been in here after a mission, she'd kissed him and touched him until he'd come all over her hands. Tonight would be different, she thought. There would be no firewhisky tonight. Voldemort followed her into the office and asked again,

"Well?"

"Dumbledore was at the cottage," Bellatrix said, shutting her eyes. There was silence. When she opened her eyes and turned to Voldemort, he looked befuddled. Bellatrix sheathed her dagger in her holster and tucked her wand away. She gulped. "I arrived at the cottage and opened the door. Jasper Valley called out for  _Albus._ I walked toward the voice. Dumbledore showed up behind me. I turned on him; he Silenced me before I could kill him. I stabbed him, but he moved, and the blow landed in his thigh. Jasper Valley came out and was about to capture me, but I stabbed his neck. I Disapparated before Dumbledore could do anything else to me. I am very sorry."

Voldemort dragged his thumb over his lip and cocked up an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

"Yes, My Lord. I'm very sorry. I don't know whether the stab wound to Jasper Valley's neck killed him. I fled instead of getting captured. I believe I left two enemies alive. Injured, but alive. I have failed."

"On the contrary; you fought an Auror and one of the most feared wizards of our time, using a wand and a dagger in a tight corridor, and you escaped capture. I hardly consider that a failure, Bellatrix."

She stared at him and licked her bottom lip as she asked softly,

"Really? Master?"

He smirked. "You stabbed Albus Dumbledore in the thigh?"

She laughed a little and nodded. "I did."

Voldemort went over to his drinks cart and immediately uncorked a crystal bottle of firewhisky. Bellatrix watched as he poured a few fingers' worth of whisky into two tumblers, and then he brought the tumblers back over to Bellatrix and handed her one. She took it and gave him a questioning look, but he clinked his glass against hers and said jovially,

"Here's to you, Bellatrix. For stabbing Albus Dumbledore in the thigh, you have my gratitude. Cheers."

Bellatrix giggled. She sipped at the firewhisky and winced hard at the burn. She shook her head and whispered,

"Ooh, I hate this stuff."

"Let's drink to you again," Voldemort suggested. He raised his glass. "To the way you stabbed an Auror in the neck. Cheers to that."

Bellatrix sipped again and sputtered a little at the awful burn of the firewhisky. She heard Voldemort letting out a low rumble of a laugh at her trouble drinking the firewhisky, and she finally gulped a full mouthful of the stuff down and squinted up at him as she struggled to down it. Voldemort looked impressed, and he sipped again.

"My goodness," he murmured. He took her glass and set it aside with his, and then he laced his arms around her neck. "Perhaps you did leave two of our enemies alive. Perhaps you did not kill your target. But I find myself less than cross with you, having battled two powerful wizards alone in a house and having injured them both badly. I am proud of you."

"You're proud of me?" Bellatrix's eyes watered, and she stared up at him. He nodded down at her and bent to kiss her with surprising gentleness.

"You are a most excellent warrior, Bellatrix, and you please me greatly. I want you to come to my rooms now and please me in another way."

Bellatrix shivered. She nodded and studied his cloudy eye and his clear one.

"How shall I please you?"

He curled up half his mouth and touched his forehead to hears. "You will lie on your back with your ankles on my shoulders whilst I  _fuck_  you, Bellatrix."

She shut her eyes and felt his lips graze hers. She moaned softly and nodded. Voldemort continued,

"You will lie there whilst I come on your belly and spread it around on your flesh."

"Mmph… Master…" Bellatrix reached between them and cupped his manhood, feeling the way he was going hard. He licked her lip and murmured,

"You will come with me to my rooms  _now_ , Bellatrix, and you will please me, just as you have served me tonight in combat, because everything you do is for me. Isn't it?"

"Everything, My Lord," she hummed, and he whispered into her ear,

"Let's go, then."

* * *

A few days later, Bellatrix entered the meeting room after her Dark Mark had begun burning like mad. She'd been reading in her rooms -  _Necromancers of Renaissance France._  Bellatrix entered the meeting room expecting to be the first one there, but Lucius and Narcissa were already seated, as was Abraxas. Severus Snape was there, too, seated to the left of Lord Voldemort and looking profoundly nervous. Bellatrix took her normal seat to the right of Voldemort, bowing her head respectfully as she did.

"Bella, did I interrupt your reading?" Voldemort asked quietly, and Bellatrix smiled weakly at him.

"How did you know, Master?"

He narrowed his eyes and smirked. "Lucky guess. Still on that Necromancy book?"

Bellatrix was surprised by the way he was engaging her so directly; usually he sat in solemn silence before meetings. As more and more people filtered into the room, though, Bellatrix affirmed,

"Yes, Master; it's that one about Renaissance France."

"I've got one about Necromancers in Ancient Rome. You might find it interesting. Come to my rooms later and I'll give it to you," he said. Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she glanced around to see others' reactions. Rabastan and Lancelot seemed surprised to hear Voldemort tell Bellatrix to come to his rooms, but Narcissa and Lucius just kept their heads down.

"Thank you, My Lord; I shall come fetch that one later."

"Oh. I'd nearly forgotten. I bought something for you." Voldemort reached into his thick outer robe and pulled out a pair of ornate and beautiful black leather gloves. He passed them to Bellatrix, who accepted them and stared at Voldemort like he was mad. The meeting room was silent. Voldemort smiled just a little and shrugged.

"In case the pair I Transfigured for you finally turns back into leaves. Wouldn't want you going without gloves. I had Abraxas get these for me from Twillfit and Tattings; I hope they'll do."

"Master." Bellatrix gulped and studied the gloves, which were stitched with elegant, swirling designs. She pulled them on and grinned. "Thank you."

He nodded crisply and folded his hands. "You're welcome. Now. Is everyone here? Very well. Announcements, anyone? No? I've just got one. Bellatrix. Do tell us the name of the wizard you stabbed in the leg with your magical dagger?"

Bellatrix grinned. "It was Albus Dumbledore, My Lord."

Everyone gasped and tittered and murmured. Voldemort looked quite pleased with himself and with Bellatrix. He nodded.

"Yes. Bellatrix was sent to kill an Auror called Jasper Valley. But who did she find at Valley's house? Albus Dumbledore! And though Dumbledore Silenced her, rendering her unable to cast Killing Curses, Bellatrix used her magical dagger to stab Dumbledore in the leg and Jasper Valley in the neck before escaping capture. Though things did not go exactly to plan, I consider myself quite pleased with what the  _Daily Prophet_ will say about it tomorrow morning. Rookwood, do tell us what that will be."

Rookwood nodded firmly. "The story that will run will be that a masked female Death Eater violently attacked Albus Dumbledore and Jasper Valley in Valley's home using a dagger that caused serious injury without leaving marks. Valley is in St Mungo's recovering from a grave neck wound, whilst Dumbledore has damage to his bone and muscle that will need healing. Dumbledore will express regret that the female Death Eater escaped."

Everyone seemed very happy indeed, and Bellatrix grinned more broadly than ever. Voldemort shocked her then by reaching for her hand, gloved in the gift he'd just given her. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand, then pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

"Excellently done, my dear," he murmured gently. "I am so very proud of you."

Bellatrix felt breathless, her stomach churning and her head spinning. She nodded as he lowered her hand, and she reluctantly pulled her hand back. Voldemort nodded then and said,

"Severus, rise."

Severus Snape, stringy and hook-nosed and greasy-looking, rose slowly from his chair. Voldemort stared up at him and said,

"Happy nineteenth birthday, Severus."

"Thank you, My Lord," said Snape in his nasally voice. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. She did not trust this Half-Blood. She stared at him as he descended to a knee and Voldemort stood from his chair. Voldemort pulled out his wand and snapped,

"Extend the left arm."

Snape pulled back his billowy black robe, cheap-looking and rough-hewn, from his left arm. Everyone watched curiously as Voldemort touched his wand to Snape's arm.

"Do you, Severus Snape, vow to serve me, Lord Voldemort, with the whole of your being, unto the death and beyond? Do you vow your life in its entirety, your soul in perpetuity? Do you promise me body, mind, being, and loyalty? Will you give me everything? Do you vow this and more to me in the service of becoming a Death Eater?"

"I do vow it, Master," Snape mumbled, bowing his head so that his ugly hair fell in front of his face. Bellatrix watched Voldemort press his wand more tightly against Snape's skin, and then her master mumbled,

" _Morsmordre._ "

Bellatrix saw the Dark Mark begin to etch itself into Snape's flesh, pink at first, then fading through maroon and going black. Her own Dark Mark flushed hot and painful, and she heard hisses of pain from around the table. Snape's face was still covered by his hair. But then Voldemort tucked his wand away, and the Marks faded. Voldemort commanded in a sharp bite,

"Rise, Severus Snape. You are a Death Eater now. Your service belongs to me and me alone. Serve me well or die. Happy birthday, boy."

Snape rose slowly off his knee and kept his head bowed. He finally looked up, eyeing Bellatrix, and she stared right at him. He sniffed and sat slowly again, and she just stared. No, she thought. She did not trust this Half-Blood.

After the meeting was dismissed, everyone filtered out of the meeting room, including Snape. Bellatrix started to go, but she heard Voldemort say,

"Bella."

She turned round and smiled a bit at him.

"Thank you for my gloves, Master. Now I won't know which to wear."

"Wear the Transfigured ones," he said, "until you can't anymore. Keep these for the day they change back."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded, swallowing past the knot in her throat.

"Don't forget to come to my rooms for that book," he said. "Necromancers in Ancient Rome. It's fascinating."

Bellatrix curtsied to him, remembering the way a few nights before, the way he'd pulled her up against his body in his bed and kissed her forehead and murmured that she was beautiful. She stared at him now, and he just stared back, and the quiet was so comfortable that she didn't move for a good long while. Finally he said,

"I've got people waiting for me outside my office."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Bellatrix turned to go, but Voldemort rose and strode toward her, catching her wrist in his hand and gazing down at her.

"You do make me proud," he nodded. "You are my best warrior. And you are beautiful. And I am unashamed of touching you in front of them."

Bellatrix's eyes welled heavily, and she just nodded. She touched at his chest with her gloved hands, and she whispered,

"Thank you, Master."

"See you later, then," he said crisply, and he moved past her, off toward his office.

**Author's Note: So, Bellatrix's mission didn't go according to plan, but she did stab Dumbledore in the thigh and Jasper Valley in the neck. At least there's that! And she and Voldemort are getting** _**Awfully Close At This Point** _ **. But she doesn't trust Snape. Hmmm. What comes next? I have plans, people! Dastardly plans! Thank you sooooooo much for the feedback.**


	19. Leaves

 

Bellatrix hummed quietly as she moved through the bedroom in the house she'd shared with Rodolphus. Narcissa had asked if Bellatrix had wanted help with this. Bellatrix had insisted she could do it alone. Now she was second-guessing that decision. She had tasked herself with going through Rodolphus' belongings today.

She moved into the bathroom and sighed as she took his basket off the shelf on the wall. She morosely pulled out Rodolphus' comb. She remembered his honey-brown hair, the feel of it thick and wavy beneath her fingers. She remembered the way it would look, messy in the morning, smooth after a shower. She set the comb down and pulled out Rodolphus' heavy metal razor. She weighed it in her hand and imagined Rodolphus gripping it. She next pulled out his bottle of cologne, and she spritzed some in the air. The salty sea. She smelled him then, and her eyes welled and her stomach clenched.

Bellatrix huffed and pulled out her wand. She aimed it at the basket of toiletries and murmured,

" _Evanesco._ "

The objects Vanished into Non-Being. No one had any use for combs or razors or cologne, she thought, and it was nearly three months to the day now since Rodolphus had died. Bellatrix went back out to the bedroom to his wardrobe and opened it, and she began methodically Vanishing her husband's socks, shoes, trousers, pyjamas, shirts, and robes. She spared one dress shirt - the white tuxedo shirt Rodolphus had worn at their wedding and every formal event since. Bellatrix pulled the shirt out and carefully folded it, placing it on the bed.

Suddenly, she found herself in tears, unsure of quite why. She clutched the shirt and knelt beside the bed, crying and shaking. She bent at the waist and pulled the shirt up against her chest. She "keened a little and whimpered.

"Dolph."

She suddenly remembered him dancing with her at their wedding, wearing this shirt.

" _You are the most beautiful bride there ever was, Bells. No one in all the world has ever looked half as beautiful as you look right now,"_ Rodolphus had told her.

They'd danced until their feet had ached.

They had come back to this house and he'd helped her out of her wedding gown in this room. She'd unbuttoned this shirt off of him and kissed his chest.

" _I love you more than life itself, Bells,_ " he'd whispered. " _You know that? Hmm?_ "

Bellatrix rolled onto her side and cried for so long that her tears finally ran dry. Eventually, the House-Elf showed up to ask if the Mistress needed anything, but Bellatrix just shook her head against the floor and shut her eyes. After a long while, she remembered that she had agreed to be at dinner at Malfoy Manor tonight. She heaved herself to her feet and managed to hang Rodolphus' shirt in his wardrobe. She cast a Preserving Charm upon it to keep it safe from decay. She Disapparated out of the bedroom back to Malfoy Manor, and she realised at once that she had forgotten her winter cloak at her house. She hurried through the gate and garden of Malfoy Manor, figuring that it was her spare cloak and she could fetch it some other time. She dashed up the foyer stairs just as Lord Voldemort was coming out of his office. He paused and eyed her curiously.

"Have you been crying?" he demanded. "Where is your cloak?"

Bellatrix gulped. "I… I have been at my house, Master. I forgot my cloak there."

"Your house," Voldemort repeated, and Bellatrix nodded.

"I was sorting through Dolph's belongings, Vanishing objects that don't need to be kept."

Voldemort was suddenly quite tight and distant. He tipped his chin up and gestured toward the dining room as he said in a crisp tone,

"Let us away to dinner, then."

Bellatrix followed him to the dining room, where they found Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy sitting alone at the table. Bellatrix frowned a bit as she took her seat and asked,

"Where are Narcissa and Mrs Malfoy?"

"Narcissa was feeling very unwell this evening," Lucius said in a delicate voice. "Mum went to help her."

"Where are they?" Bellatrix snapped. "I'm her sister; I ought to help her."

"Narcissa insisted that we eat without her." Lucius was calm, so much so that Bellatrix found herself angry. He continued, "She knew you were at your house and did not wish to trouble you. She's fine."

Bellatrix huffed, feeling quite cross that her sister had rejected her in her hour of need. She angrily awaited dinner. The meal was stilted and awkward. They were served raw oysters, which Bellatrix did not feel like eating, so she stared at them as Voldemort tried to be elegant in slurping his down. Abraxas and Lucius began discussing the idea of inviting Severus Snape over for dinner sometime.

"Wouldn't that be a fine way to welcome him into our ranks, Master?" Abraxas asked.

"A fine way, indeed," Voldemort affirmed, "particularly since, I believe, the boy comes from humble origins."

Bellatrix snorted a sound a distaste. Voldemort glared at her and set down his oyster shell.

"Have you something to say?" His voice was lethal then. Bellatrix swallowed hard and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Master. He strikes me the wrong way."

Voldemort tipped his head. "Oh. He does, does he?"

Bellatrix threw up her hands and scoffed.

"He is entirely unproven. He is off-putting. He seems… dirty. He is a Half-Blood!"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as his face went scarlet with rage. He leaned toward Bellatrix and snarled,

"Lord Voldemort is a Half-Blood. Tom Riddle went to a bloody Muggle orphanage on school holidays, or didn't your father tell you that bit?"

Bellatrix blinked. "I'm… I am very sorry, Master; I did not mean to -"

"You are dismissed." Voldemort put his napkin on the table. Bellatrix stared at the plate before her, which had just changed from oysters to steak.

"B-But, Master, I haven't eaten any -"

His face was so red then that she worried he was apoplectic. He shook where he sat and curled up his lip.

"I said that you are dismissed; leave my presence at once. Do not ever question my judgment again, Bellatrix, or you will face far worse than mere anger. Go."

"Master." Bellatrix thrust herself out of her chair and dashed out of the dining room, not sparing a glance to Lucius or Abraxas. She ran through the corridors and up the stairs, all the way to her chambers. She threw open the door and slammed it shut, using her wand to switch on the Wizarding Wireless and crank up the volume. She curled up into a ball on her sofa and shut her eyes.

" _... and in a bit of good news, injured Auror Jasper Valley was released today from St Mungo's Hospital. He will likely not speak again, but the good news is that he has survived the attack on his home. In other news, a new Ministry of Magic policy has authorised the use of force and potions by Aurors in public to interrogate anyone suspected of assisting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But enough of the war! Now, back to music from the new hit rock band Shylock!_ "

Bellatrix listened to the band sing about giving a love potion to the mother of the witch they wanted. She sighed and wondered just what was the matter with her. She'd been a disastrous mess of emotions after sorting through Rodolphus' belongings, and she'd disobeyed Voldemort. Again. He was cross with her. Again.

There was loud knocking on her door, and Bellatrix hurried to turn off the radio and rush over to open the door. Before her stood a very pale, tear-streaked Narcissa. She followed Bellatrix into the sitting room, and Bellatrix quietly asked,

"Tea?"

"No. Thank you." Narcissa knitted her hands before her and cleared her throat. "It wasn't a miscarriage, though it reminded me of them. I was just bleeding very heavily. Adelaide has begun to blame me for my inability to get pregnant properly. I've tried herbs. Potions. Charms. Dark magic. The natural approach. I've tried  _not_  trying. I don't know what to do, Bella. Lucius and I can't seem to… it isn't working."

She started to shake with sobs then, so Bellatrix wrapped her little sister up in an embrace and said softly,

"You'll have a baby. I just know it. Some blond little thing with pale eyes like you and Lucius. It'll be a marvelous creature, and you will love it to bits."

"It," Narcissa giggled. Bellatrix shrugged and pulled back.

"He. She. It'll be one of those. And you will love it very much."

Narcissa touched at her forehead and let out a pitiful noise. "Will I ever, ever be a mother?"  
"You will. I know it," Bellatrix said firmly. "You were born to be a mother, Cissy. There's no one else in all this world with motherhood more deeply etched upon her soul than you."

"You would have been a good mother with Rodolphus," Narcissa offered, but Bellatrix snorted.

"No, I would have been a rotten, awful, terrible mother with Dolph. He would have been an amazing father, but I would have been the worst mother. You, though. You will be an unimaginably fantastic mother. And it  _will_  happen, Cissy. It will happen."

"Change of topic," Narcissa said in an airy, anxious sort of voice. She knotted her hands again and said, "I heard that the Dark Lord banished you from dinner."

Bellatrix pinched her lips and shrugged. "I was… disrespectful."

Narcissa stared right at her sister for what felt like an interminable moment.

"He'll get over it quickly, I think. Lucius told me what happened; he would have cast a Cruciatus Curse on anyone else; he just sent you out of the room."

Bellatrix sighed and nodded. Narcissa was right, of course. If Lucius or Abraxas or anybody else had spoken to Voldemort the way she'd done, they'd have earned themselves a Stunning Spell at best or a blast of green light at worst.

"I ought to go," Narcissa mused, seeming to sense that Bellatrix wanted to be alone just now. Bellatrix gave a numb bob of her head and saw Narcissa out. Once Narcissa had gone, it was silent and still. Bellatrix aimed her wand at the Wizarding Wireless again, and she turned up the volume on rock music from Hamish Togarty.

* * *

Voldemort didn't speak to Bellatrix for four days.

At dinner, he sat in complete silence. He ignored Bellatrix as though she didn't exist. The next day, and the day after, he ate in his office. He walked by her in the corridor and ignored her deferential curtsy. Finally, on the fifth day, Bellatrix sauntered up to her rooms and wondered whether he would ever see her or speak to her again. She pulled on her fur-lined winter cloak and went over to her dressing table to fetch her black leather gloves.

But they were gone.

Instead, there were leaves. Crumpled, brown, crinkled leaves, lying on her boudoir. Bellatrix gasped in horror. She began to cry silently as she picked up the leaves and manipulated them in her hands. They disintegrated in her fingers, and Bellatrix whimpered and moaned. She was in shock. Her gloves had turned back into leaves. For some reason, Bellatrix felt like she'd lost someone again. She was overwhelmed with grief and guilt once more. This was like mourning Rodolphus all over again. Why did she care so much about Transfigured gloves?

Bellatrix silently opened her boudoir drawer and pulled out the ornate black gloves from Twillfit and Tattings. She pulled them onto her hands and sniffled. She shook her head and made her way out of her rooms, going down the stairs and out of the manor to the gardens. Outside, it was very cold and very brown. She ambled slowly through the gardens for a while and finally sat on a bench. She scuffed her boot on the dead grass and wondered what had become of her.

Her husband was dead. Her master despised her. She had made all sorts of trouble. She was a disaster. Bellatrix let out a breath and watched it cloud in the air in front of her.

"Bella, why don't you like him?"

She flew to her feet and dipped into a curtsy as Voldemort approached her. He was wearing a heavy, elegant cloak, and Bellatrix marveled at the intimidating sight of him moving toward her. She slowly rose as he barked again,

"Why don't you like Severus Snape? Just because he's a Half-Blood? Really?"

Bellatrix blinked. "It's because… he seems insufficiently devoted, as though he could be easily swayed. He seems weak. He seems malleable, vulnerable. I worry that, as a Half-Blood with a seemingly shakeable personality, he would be susceptible to the influences of our enemies."

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a long moment.

"He is a Legilimens," he pointed out, "and a powerful one."

"And an Occlumens, presumably," Bellatrix said with caution. Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"You think he would spy and hide it from me? I'd like to see him try."

Bellatrix chomped her lip. "May I ask why he in particular has been brought into our fold, Master?"

"No, you may not," he snapped.

She bit her tongue then. Voldemort approached her and glanced down at her gloves. He studied them closely for a moment.

"They turned back into leaves."

"Yes, they did," Bellatrix said softly.

Voldemort picked up her hand and dragged his own gloved fingers over her palm. He lowered her hand and waited for her to meet his gaze.

"Do not ever act so disobediently in front of my other followers again. Lucius and Abraxas witnessed your blatant disrespect. I will not have it."

Bellatrix shut her eyes for a moment. "I am more sorry than I could ever express, and I -"

"If you ever presume to speak to me that way again, I will wrap you up in a Cruciatus Curse before you can finish uttering your venom."

Bellatrix shut her mouth at having been interrupted, and she nodded. Her heart raced and her lungs burned in the cold air.

"I promise to be faithfully respectful from this moment forward, Master."

"You will trust my judgment regarding Severus Snape."

Bellatrix affirmed her assent again, but she still felt strongly that Snape would be a weakness and not a strength for Voldemort. Nonetheless, she would not argue with her master.

"You will be obedient," he said, "or I will see you punished to the full extent of my rage. Do you understand me?"

"I understand, My Lord." Bellatrix sighed.

"Good," he stated crisply. "Now. That is over. That is finished. May we kindly proceed?"

Bellatrix was confused. She stared up at him. He put his gloved finger beneath her chin and bent to kiss her. He was very gentle, but Bellatrix couldn't believe he was kissing her at all.

"Beautiful, wicked, wild creature," he murmured, "Don't you know how badly I have thirsted for you these past several days?"

She shook her head. He kissed her again and whispered against her lips,

"Bellatrix. I… you and I…"

She just breathed, shaky and unsteady, and held onto his robes. Suddenly she felt very compelled to say quietly,

"I believe, Master, that I am falling in love with you."

He kissed her quite deeply then, drawing her against her body. She reached up and held his face with her new gloves. He snared his arms round her, and Bellatrix thought that people must be watching out the windows. Somehow, she couldn't care. He had threatened to torture her if she did not obey him. But she had told her truth.

She was a widow, and she was falling in love with her master.

**Author's Note: DRAMA! Gloves! Disobedience! Declarations of love! What do you think will happen with Snape? And what will Voldemort do now that Bellatrix has confessed she's falling in love? Who's up for a nice lemon? Anybody? Haha. Thanks so very, very much for reading. I'm quite grateful for the feedback.**


	20. Snape

Bellatrix and Voldemort walked in silence through the corridors of the manor, past his office and past the dining room, past the meeting room and around the corner. She followed him through the double doors that led to his quarters, and she watched as he pushed open the door that led into his sitting room.

"Bella," he huffed, shutting the door behind him, speaking for the first time since they'd been outside. He stared down at her, and she just blinked at him, wondering what he thought of what she'd said. Did he think she was an idiot for falling in love with him? Did he think she was a fool?

If he did think those things, he didn't give such an impression. He took Bellatrix's face in his hands and kissed her deeply, backing up into the sitting room and bringing her with him. His mouth was relaxed at first, his kisses tender and easy. He kissed the top and bottom of Bellatrix's lips, over and again, and then slid his tongue along her bottom lip. His hand pressed to the small of her back as his other fingers slipped into her curls. He grazed his tongue between Bellatrix's lips and suckled a bit on her tongue, pulling it into her mouth. She moaned softly and went up onto her tiptoes as their tongues tangled and Voldemort intensified the kiss.

Voldemort's hand slid beneath the hem of Bellatrix's tunic under her cloak, and his other hand untied the cloak until it fell. He let his hand slip around beneath the tunic, up past her flat stomach and beneath the soft cotton of her bra. He cupped her bare breast in his large, rough hand. He dragged a thumb over her peaked nipple and squeezed a bit at the soft tissue of her small, round breast. Bellatrix tossed her head back a bit, and Voldemort bent to latch his mouth beneath her ear. She cried out and reached between them, desperately unbuttoning his trousers as quickly as she could.

"Are you cross with me?" she whispered. "For what I said?"

"About Snape?" he teased. "Yes. I am cross with you about Snape."

"About you, I meant," she puffed. Voldemort sighed, pulling back from her as her hands stilled on his crotch. He shook his head.

"It was an inevitability, it would seem, given these past few months. How could I be cross?"

Bellatrix blinked through tears then. She slowly descended to her knees, and Voldemort asked in a sharp tone,

"What are you doing?"

"May I give you pleasure, Master?" she asked. He sucked in breath through clenched teeth and nodded, peeling off his outer robe and letting it fall to the ground, pooling round his feet. Bellatrix knelt before him and finished unbuttoning his trousers, pulling out his cock with her two hands. She took a shaking breath as she processed once more just how large he was. So much larger than any cock she'd ever seen. She yanked down on his trousers and edged his tunic out of the way, and she stared up at him, making eye contact as she wrapped a hand round his shaft. Her fingers didn't quite meet, a fact which aroused her and sent a wet shock on want between her legs.

"Master," she said in a quiet voice, and he buried his fingers into her curls and squeezed. He nodded and shut his eyes, giving her permission to begin pleasuring him. She knew that it was quite likely he would finish like this, with her on her knees, but somehow she did not mind. She did not need penetration today. She wanted to witness his satisfaction. She wanted to  _give_  him that satisfaction. She wanted to make him come.

Bellatrix began her ministrations by swirling her tongue around the sensitive corona, peeling back the foreskin so that she could kiss and caress the place where Voldemort's tip met his shaft. She licked there, dragging her bottom lip around the area, and Voldemort's hands tightened in her hair. He grunted and panted a little. He liked this, she thought. He liked the way she was worshipping his cock like this. She began using one hand to carefully fondle and stroke his balls as her other hand worked up and down his shaft. All the while, she used her lips and tongue on the tip, on his corona. Voldemort bucked his hips forward, and when Bellatrix stared up at him, he wrenched his eyes shut and whispered something she couldn't understand. Suddenly he was saying something soft and incomprehensible.

" _Hyanossieth_ …  _Kaonesssessies_ _._ "

Bellatrix tried not to freeze. Parseltongue. He'd devolved into speaking Parseltongue in his pleasure. She shivered at that, at the idea that this powerful wizard was speaking another language because he so liked what she was doing. Did he even realise what he was doing, she wondered? It did not seem like he knew he was speaking Parseltongue. Perhaps he did it instinctively. She gulped.

She formed a tube with one hand and touched it to her lips. Then she slid her hand down over Voldemort's tip whilst her other hand continued to massage his balls. She pushed his tip between her lips and tried not to gag at his girth and length as she took him into her mouth. She started to pump her hand up and down his shaft, bobbing her head mostly over and around his tip. She used her tongue to give special attention to the ridge of flesh on the base of his cock where he was so sensitive. He growled and held her hair so tightly that it hurt. Bellatrix came alive and tingled from the inside out. She felt his balls tighten up in her hand, drawing up against his body. She felt his cock swell in her mouth, going as rigid as stone. He was close, she knew. So close. She prepared herself for a horrid taste, for an awful mouthful of his seed, but he whispered frantically,

"On the face. On your face."

Bellatrix yanked her mouth off of him so that she could obey him. She aimed his cock at her cheek and stared up at him, seeing his eyes flutter shut and his lips fall open. His chest was rising and falling quickly, and his throat bobbed. He seemed to force his eyes open, and he whispered,

"You… are so beautiful right now."

Bellatrix gasped. She didn't know what to say to that. Suddenly she was unable to speak, though, because Voldemort was finishing all over her. His come was erupting onto her cheek, splattering up onto her eyebrow and dribbling down over her nose. She shook with surprised thrill at the feel of the warm, wet satisfaction all over her face. She shut her eyes and just absorbed the sensation, the knowledge that her master had found his bliss upon her. Why did it make her so incredibly aroused to think of this? Why were her knickers soaked through at the knowledge that her face was covered in his come? She released his cock and gently let go of his balls, and she slowly reached up to touch at the come. She moaned a little, eyes still shut, and she whimpered as her ears rang with profound arousal.

"Bella," Voldemort hissed. She knelt there, drenched in his seed, and she panted, feeling her cheeks go hot. She heard his voice say quietly, " _Tergeo_ _._ _Scourgify_   _Maxima._ "

She could feel the come Siphoning off her skin, could feel her face getting fresh and clean, and she opened her eyes, staring up at her master with bleary-eyed want. He aimed his wand down at her, and it shook a little in his hand. She gulped, licking her bottom lip, and whispered,

"Was that all right?"

"Oh." He nodded. "Hmm.  _Restinctio_ _._ "

Bellatrix gasped then, for a warm spell eked out of his wand and washed over her. It wasn't like an ordinary climax; it was something different. She shut her eyes and felt a quenching sense of satisfaction. She felt heat, delicious warmth in her veins. She heard a high-pitched ring in her ears. She felt a dizzy contentment in her brain, a fuzzy sense of gratification. And the pleasure went on for what seemed like a very long while, much longer than any climax had ever done. By the time it all faded, Bellatrix found herself leaning heavily on one hand and breathing with slow, trembling air in her lungs.

Voldemort finally helped her to her feet, and she saw that he'd tucked himself back into his trousers and buttoned them up. He'd pulled on his outer robe, as well. Now he stared down at Bellatrix and brushed his thumb under her eye, and he seemed to be examining her eyes. She wondered, distantly, what she looked like to a half-blind man. The same, probably. It was likely only his range of vision that was affected, she figured. She touched at his chest and murmured,

"Thank you. For all of it."

"We need to go down for dinner. They'll start without us."

"Dinner," Bellatrix repeated numbly, nodding. "I'd have thought you'd eat in your office."

"Well." Voldemort tipped his head. "I'm eating in the dining room because Severus Snape is joining us tonight."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide. So that was why he'd come storming out into the garden, demanding to know why she didn't trust Snape. That was why he'd made up with her. Her mouth fell open. Voldemort noted,

"You still do not trust him. You think that he is a stringy, greasy Half-Blood from a poor Muggle upbringing, vulnerable to the persuasions of Dumbledore. An Occlumens who could shield betrayal from me whilst working against me from the inside. You do not trust him."

Bellatrix pinched her lips tightly and shook her head. "I will not argue with you. I made my vow; I will be your obedient servant unto the end of my life, Master."

Voldemort tucked her curls behind her ear and sighed. "You will not argue, but you do not believe I have made the right decision in giving Snape the Dark Mark."

Bellatrix shut her eyes and felt ill. She whispered frantically, "I will not disobey. I will not argue."

"You will be honest," he commanded her. "Tell me. You think I have made a mistake, don't you?"

Bellatrix said nothing. She kept her eyes shut. Voldemort's finger touched beneath her chin and tipped it up, and he snapped at her,

"Answer me, Bellatrix."

She opened her eyes and let out a shaking breath, nodding. "I believe… he has the capacity to betray you. I worry that he has the hallmarks of a turncoat, the makings of a double agent, the signs of a weak opportunist. I fear that you have brought an untrustworthy figure into your fold at the height of a war where there is no room for error. I hope you will not torture me for saying this; I mean no disrespect. I speak this opinion because your success is of utmost importance to me, and I am loyal to you with every drop of my blood."

Voldemort nodded slowly. He sniffed a little and let his hand fall from Bellatrix's chin. He stared at the wall for a moment, appearing to consider something. Then he licked his lip and said,

"Let's go to dinner."

Downstairs, Bellatrix stayed a few paces behind Voldemort so that he could enter the dining room first. But he held back and waited for her to catch up to him, and he held out a hand. Bellatrix cautiously took it, surprised by the way he wanted to walk in with her. She was even more surprised by the way he dragged his thumb over hers and led her into the dining room with their hands clutched quite affectionately together as though they were a real couple. Everyone in the dining room rose to their feet when Voldemort entered, and Narcissa's pale eyes went round as saucers when she saw that her sister was being held by the Dark Lord himself.

Voldemort walked Bellatrix over to her chair and left her there with a little smile. Bellatrix grinned at him and nodded, and he went to the head of the table. Directly across from Bellatrix was Severus Snape, who sat as the Dark Lord did. He was stringy-haired, even for a formal dinner, and he had come in a funereal set of ugly black robes. Voldemort sat and raised his wine glass, so everyone else did the same.

"To Severus Snape, our newest Death Eater. Welcome," Voldemort said simply. The others mumbled their welcomes, and Snape nodded his thanks and sipped his red elf-made wine. The first course of warm mushrooms and arugula appeared on the plates, and Bellatrix began to eat as Adelaide Malfoy asked,

"Severus, dear, where did you say you were from?"

"From a place called Cokeworth, in the Midlands," Snape drawled. "It is rather a dour place."

"Your Occlumency shields are faltering," Voldemort noticed lightly. "I see a red-haired girl from Cokeworth, a girl of great import. A friend. Who is she?"

Bellatrix raised her brows as Snape's cheekbones went quite pink. He cleared his throat and insisted,

"She is no one now, My Lord. She used to matter, but no longer."

"Why not?" Voldemort pressed. Snape chewed a lip and shrugged.

"We were close, but… she is a Mudblood, so I distanced myself."

Narcissa made a tutting sound, and Lucius looked disgusted. Snape's face was still very red. Voldemort narrowed his eyes, looking determined as he stared into Snape's face. Finally he said quietly,

"Lily. Lily Evans."

Snape choked out a little noise and nodded.

"Yes, sir. Lily. Lily Potter now, married last summer to the Pureblood James Potter. She and I… our friendship was childish and foolish and exists no longer."

Bellatrix could plainly see that Severus Snape harboured some semblance of emotion for this Lily, this Mudblood. Voldemort could feel it, too, she knew. Voldemort poked at his warm mushrooms and cleared his throat.

"See to it that you do not fraternise with any more Mudbloods, Severus; I won't have such behaviour among my soldiers."

"Lily and James Potter are known members of the Order of the Phoenix, My Lord," Abraxas Malfoy said sharply. Bellatrix snapped her face to Abraxas, who was staring down the table. She glanced to Voldemort, who looked mildly interested.

"Ah. I remember hearing a report now… James Potter, a close friend of your awful cousin Sirius Black, Bellatrix."

"He and his terrible friends joined up with Dumbledore as soon as they left school," Bellatrix sneered. "Blood traitors. And a werewolf, I hear from rumour."

"That rumour is true," Snape confirmed. "Remus Lupin, another member of the group, is indeed a werewolf. I went to school with the lot of them. Peter Pettigrew, as well."

"And this precious Lily of yours," Voldemort said quietly, "would you throw a Killing Curse at her in the heat of battle, Severus? Would you be able to utter those sacred words -  _Avada_   _Kedavra_  - and aim them at beautiful, scarlet-haired Lily?"

The room was deathly still and silent for a moment, but then Snape said confidently,

"I will do anything and everything you command me to do, Master. My actions, and my fate, are yours. I am a Death Eater now, without equivocation. Without exception."

"Not even for her?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Snape shook his head.

"Not even for her, no."

"Well! Back to dinner, then." Voldemort commenced eating, and Severus Snape got caught up into an interrogation about which Quidditch teams he followed. Bellatrix stared at Voldemort, and eventually he raised his eyes and met her gaze. As Snape bloviated on about how he had only occasionally followed the matches of Puddlemere United, Voldemort nodded at Bellatrix. She tried not to curl her lips up.

Doubt. He felt doubt. She'd been right, after all. He was feeling unease about Snape; she wasn't mad or disloyal. For the rest of dinner, Voldemort stayed silent, but Bellatrix knew what he was doing. He was pressing into Snape's mind, breaking through his Occlumency, searching for clues and answers and interesting tidbits of information.

By the time dessert was served - custard with a sliver of strawberry for garnish - Voldemort appeared to have lost his appetite entirely. Snape was now sitting quietly, spooning custard into his mouth as the others talked about the bitterly cold weather predicted to be coming in the next few days. After dessert, Voldemort rose and said simply,

"Thank you for dining with us, Severus. Until the next meeting, then."

"Thank you kindly for the meal." Snape bowed his head to Voldemort, then to the Malfoys, and the room began to empty out. Bellatrix held back as the plates were cleared from the table by House-Elf magic. She waited and knitted her hands together before her, and she said in a soft voice,

"Tell me that I am all wrong about him, Master. That I am paranoid. Tell me that it is of no import that his old Mudblood crush is now a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Bella." Voldemort raised his eyes to her, and she nodded frantically. He dragged his teeth over his lip and said, "I still maintain that Severus Snape will make a fine servant for me. But not as long as that Mudblood wench is alive and in the way. You and I are going to Godric's Hollow."

"Godric's Hollow, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, and he said,

"To the home of James and Lily Potter. We have a bit of extermination to do, you and I. Go get your cloak, and your gloves, and your dagger. Meet me by my office."

**Author's Note:** **Whew!**   **Lemonade! So, in this version of events, Bellatrix has made Voldemort aware of Snape's potential to betray him, and now they both** **know**   **just how important Lily is to Snape. Will Voldemort and Bellatrix kill the Potters?** **If so, what will the consequences of that be, beyond the obvious?** **I'd love to** **hear**   **your thoughts. Thanks for reading!**


	21. Exclusivity

Bellatrix moved quickly down the stairs, wearing her mask and cloak, carrying her dagger and wand. She swept briskly through the corridor and found Voldemort outside his office.

"Where are your gloves?" Voldemort demanded. "It's freezing outside."

Bellatrix hesitated, looking down at her bare hands.

"Master," she said, "my new gloves from Twillfit and Tattings make it a bit difficult to grip my wand and dagger."

Voldemort scowled. "Did your old gloves fit better? The ones that turned back to leaves?"

"Yes, they did," Bellatrix affirmed with caution. "They fit like water over my skin. The new gloves are beautiful, but they're a bit bulky. I think I'm better off with my bare hands tonight for dexterity's sake."

"Well," Voldemort snapped, pinching his lips, "I shall Transfigure you a new pair very soon. Let's go."

Bellatrix followed him out to the foyer and down the stairs. He pulled out his wand as they walked out of the manor and through the garden.

"It isn't late enough for them to be sleeping," Bellatrix noted. "We'll be going in for a fight."

"Not a long fight," Voldemort predicted. "I am with you. And they can not kill me."

Bellatrix stared up at him as they walked through the garden, furrowing her brows beneath her mask. What did he mean, they couldn't kill him? He smirked under his hood, and she asked cautiously, in a japing sort of voice,

"What, are you immortal, My Lord?"

"I am… particularly protected," he told her. He glanced down, his smirk broadening. Bellatrix chewed her lip, remembering the story he'd told her about the objects he'd made to protect himself, the things that had rendered him scarred and damaged. Was that what he meant? She gazed up at him and reminded him,

"They'll kill me, though."

"Hardly. You're a ferocious warrior, Bellatrix; I think you can hold your own in battle against the Potters." Voldemort sounded quite confident. He reached for her wand hand and told her, "We're going by Side-Along; I saw the house in Severus Snape's head."

Bellatrix relished the feel of his leather glove against her bare skin, and she shut her eyes for just a moment as they passed through the gate.

"I must tell you," she said softly, her voice muffled a bit by her mask, "before we go to the attack, that I was not telling a lie earlier today, My Lord. I was telling you the truth when I said that I am falling in love with you. And I feel the need to say it again, because I may die tonight, and if I die, I wish for you to know that I died in love with my master."

He squeezed at her hand, and when she dared to look up at him, his face was a little strange. He nodded and told Bellatrix,

"Message received. And… appreciated. Message fully appreciated. I do hope you realise how… erm…  _significant_  you are to me, Bella. And that's quite enough of that ridiculous maudlin talk now; we are going to fight. Let us focus our attentions on the task at hand."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said. She nodded firmly and distantly thought of going into battles with Rodolphus.

But Rodolphus was gone.

Voldemort took her by Side-Along Apparition, and when they came to, they were in a shadowy, snowy street before a row of beamed Tudor-style houses. Bellatrix stared up at the one before them, a pale white place with dark wood beaming and a quaint little walled front garden. Voldemort released her wand hand and whispered,

"Be quick of wit and strike with the full force of our rage. Let's go."

He opened the black wrought-iron gate leading up to the house, and they were immediately socked with protective charms. Bellatrix felt herself physically repelled from taking another step. She tried, but the spells wouldn't let her pass. Voldemort slashed his wand through the air five or six times and muttered counter-spells until the air felt clear and easy. Bellatrix followed him up the sidewalk, their steps making footprints in the dusting of snow. Voldemort cut his wand through the air again, and the front door flew open. He went running into the house and screamed,

" _JAMES AND LILY POTTER!"_

Bellatrix dashed in behind him. There was a sudden flash of blue light, which Voldemort deflected into a hundred thousand tiny sparks. Bellatrix rushed up beside Voldemort and saw that scruffy, black-haired James Potter had come careening out of the parlour into the cramped corridor.

" _Flipendo_   _Duo!_ " James hurled a spell at Bellatrix, but she deftly blocked it, sending it right back toward the young man. The spell ricocheted against the wallpaper, making it peel down in shreds.

"James!" screamed Lily Potter from the stairs, where she had appeared.

" _Immobulus_ _!_ " shrieked Bellatrix, making the mountain-shaped movement with her wand and sending blue light soaring toward lovely red-haired Lily. She froze and toppled over onto the stairs, sliding down a few of them. In the meantime, James was throwing hexes at Voldemort, who blocked one after another and laughed rather hysterically.

"Enough!" Voldemort shouted. "Enough games, Mr Potter!  _Avada_   _Kedavra_ _!_ "

Jade green light burst forth from Voldemort's pale yew wand and shot straight into James Potter's chest. He crumpled at once in death, his wand rattling as it hit the tile floor. James' head clonked against the ground, and he went perfectly still. Lily, Bellatrix knew, was immobilised but perfectly cognizant of what was happening. She was aware that her husband had just been killed, but she was unable to scream or fight.

"Bella." Voldemort ambled over to James Potter and nonverbally Vanished his corpse and wand. He gestured up to Lily Potter and commanded, "Use your dagger to kill her. Make it good; I want to watch."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix ran up the stairs with pattering steps until she reached the carpeted area where Lily had gone immobile from the Freezing Charm. Bellatrix switched hands, holding her wand in her left hand and her dagger in her right, and she studied Lily Potter. The witch was beautiful, with vibrant emerald eyes and waves of scarlet hair. But she was also disgusting, Bellatrix thought.

"Filthy Mudblood," she uttered, and then she plunged her dagger straight above Lily Potter's left breast. Lily convulsed a little, even through the Freezing Charm. Bellatrix stabbed again and again there, then watched as the blood dissolved from her blade. She moved up to Lily's neck and drew her dagger back, plunging it forward and driving it with a snarl in the space at the front of Lily's throat. She stabbed the side of Lily's neck, then her sternum. It took effort to pull her blade out from that. After a while, Bellatrix's arm was getting tired, and she was very sure that Lily must be dead. She pulled her dagger out and watched it clean itself. Lily's body showed no sign of damage, but the stab wounds had been many. Her eyes were glazed and blank. Bellatrix picked up Lily's wrist and touched her fingers to the inside, shutting her eyes and feeling for a pulse. There was none.

"She is dead, My Lord," Bellatrix said confidently, looking downstairs to see Voldemort staring up at her.

"You are in love with me," he murmured, "and you have just done  _that_."

Bellatrix smirked beneath her mask and asked, "Shall I Vanish her?"

"Yes." Voldemort sounded a little numb, as though he couldn't quite believe Bellatrix just now. She stood up and aimed her wand at Lily Potter.

" _Corpus Evanesco_ ," she muttered. She Vanished Lily's wand, too, and then she asked, "Why Vanish them? Why not leave the bodies to be found?"

"It is crueler not to give them anything to bury," Voldemort said. "We will still leave the Mark. Let's go, before one of their friends shows up."

Outside, Voldemort stood in the snow and aimed his wand at the sky.

" _Morsmordre_ _,_ " he purred, and the Dark Mark etched itself against the clouds in sparkling green. Bellatrix grinned under her mask and sheathed her dagger. She reached for Voldemort's left hand and squeezed tightly.

"Have I served you well tonight, Master?" she asked, and he sighed heavily as he stared down at her, his face bathed in the green glow of the Dark Mark.

"You were magnificent," he told her. "You are… magnificent. Let's go home."

* * *

The next day, Bellatrix made her way happily to Voldemort's office to debrief what they had done the night before. It had been such a full day that they had come back and gone to bed, but now she wanted to complain about firewhisky with him whilst they discussed the way she'd stabbed Lily in the neck and chest, the way he'd socked James Potter with a Killing Curse. So she ambled up to Voldemort's office door and knocked firmly on it. But then she heard voices inside the office, and she distinctly heard Voldemort say,

"Pardon me. Just one moment."

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Voldemort stood before her looking distracted. He shrugged.

"Do you need something?"

Bellatrix frowned. "Erm… so sorry, Master. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I've got Alba Carrow in here, so unless it's quite urgent?" Voldemort raised his eyebrows, and Bellatrix's stomach clenched with guilt.

"No, Master. It's nothing important. My apologies."

"Right. Some other time, then." Voldemort began to shut the door, and as he turned away, he called, "Don't drink all the firewhisky without me, Alba."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open. Firewhisky? Alba Carrow? Her heart began to race. Her eyes began to well. She dashed away from Voldemort's office and made her way as quickly as she could down the corridor and up the stairs, going to her quarters. She curled up with her warming blanket and a cup of peppermint tea, listening to instrumental music on her Wizarding Wireless and reading  _Cats: Fabulous Familiars._

But she was sorely distracted. Alba Carrow was a stern but good-looking witch of about forty, a Death Eater but not a soldier. She was simperingly attentive to the Dark Lord, Bellatrix knew. She'd had a husband, but he'd left her for a much younger woman, and she'd reverted to her maiden name. Why was Alba Carrow drinking firewhisky with Lord Voldemort alone in his office? Of course, Bellatrix had absolutely no ownership over her master. She had no right to feel possessive. But she did feel envious. She did feel paranoid. She didn't like this. Not one bit.

Two hours later, someone knocked quite firmly on her door, and Bellatrix slowly set down her cold tea and her book as she walked over to answer. She pulled open the door to see Voldemort standing before her, looking for all the world as though absolutely nothing were wrong. He smiled just a little at Bellatrix and said.

"I was busy earlier; what did you need?"

Bellatrix chewed her lip and shrugged, shaking her head. "It was nothing. I wanted to talk with you about last night. That's all."

"Last night." Voldemort frowned. He pushed past Bellatrix to step into her sitting room, and she shut the door. "What about last night? Is something the matter?"

"Quite the opposite," Bellatrix huffed. "I was excited about it and wanted to… you know, just talk."

"Oh. I wish I'd had the time. I've been in meetings with Rookwood and Carrow all day. Rookwood's moving to the Ministry, you know, and Carrow's taking over for him as our spy at the  _Daily Prophet_. So there's an awful lot of preparation to be done."

Bellatrix was struck dumb. Now she felt like a complete stooge. Alba Carrow had been in Voldemort's office for a meeting discussing her move to the  _Daily Prophet._  Bellatrix licked her lip and nodded. Voldemort scoffed.

"What, did you think Alba and I were in there getting drunk or something?"

Bellatrix said nothing, feeling her cheeks go hot. Voldemort tipped his head and choked out a little noise.

"You were  _jealous_ ," he hissed, "of a fellow Death Eater meeting with your master. You thought I was doing something  _improper_  in my office with Alba Carrow, and it rendered you mad with jealousy."

Bellatrix gulped, bowing her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Voldemort threw his head back and laughed rather uproariously at her, and Bellatrix tried not to cry.

"You were  _jealous!_ " he roared. "Jealous! Of Alba Carrow, the hag who swigs down firewhisky like it's water? My Death Eater, meeting with me to discuss her new placement at the  _Daily Prophet?_  You were jealous of me, the Dark Lord, doing my job as the head of our movement? You have got to be joking. This is a terrible joke, isn't it?"  
Bellatrix stared at him, feeling tears well heavily in her eyes. Her Wizarding Wireless was still playing loud instrumental music. She should turn it off, she thought. Instead, she just stood there staring at him like a complete moron. Voldemort laughed again and dragged his fingers over the top of his head, through his short-cropped grey hair, and he coughed out a bitterly acerbic sound.

" _Jealous_  of Alba Carrow meeting with me about her job."

Bellatrix felt ridiculous now. She sniffled and shook her head and whispered,

"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I am a right idiot. I -"

She gasped then, because he'd suddenly taken her face in his hands. She looked up into his eyes, surprised by the way he'd taken hold of her, and she watched as he shook his head.

"You beautiful little fool," he mumbled. "Do you honestly think I would be drinking alone for fun with some other witch?"

"It would be your prerogative to do so," Bellatrix insisted. "It is not my place to tell you -"

"Do you honestly think I would kiss anyone else? Touch the body of another witch, Bella?"

She couldn't keep a tear from drizzling over her eyelid then. It eked down her cheek and onto his thumb, and Bellatrix said,

"I could never be greedy about you, Master. You are not mine to possess in any way. You are my master, and I am your servant, and that is all there is to it. I know my place."

"Do you?" Voldemort bent down and brushed his lips against Bellatrix's. "Do you know your place?"

She let out a shaking sigh, and their breath mingled together for a long moment. She shut her eyes and felt his thumbs move beneath her eyes.

"Do not be jealous," he hummed. "Believe it or not, I am capable of exclusivity."

"Exclusivity," Bellatrix repeated, and he kissed her more deeply. When he pulled away, Bellatrix was breathless. Voldemort nodded. He reached into his robe and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. He handed them to Bellatrix.

"Exclusivity," he said again, "Monogamy. Absolute, restricted, privileged access to one another at the omission of all others. Is that clear enough for you? I made you those gloves this morning. If they change back, they'll become emeralds, not leaves."

Bellatrix trembled as she pulled the gloves onto her hands. They fit just so, like liquid over her flesh. She gazed up at Voldemort and nodded.

"They are perfect, Master," she said. "Thank you."

"And?" he prompted. Bellatrix shook her head in confusion, so he clarified, "Exclusivity."

Bellatrix's lips parted, and she reached up to plant her hands on Voldemort's chest. She tried to think of Rodolphus. She tried to remember that it had only been three months since she'd accidentally killed her husband. She tried not to be in love with her master. She tried to tell herself to just serve him, to just kill for him like she'd done the night before. But instead she nodded, and she whimpered a little as she stared at the gloves he'd crafted her out of emeralds. She met his eyes and said quite firmly,

"Yes, Master. Exclusivity."

"Do not be jealous of Alba Carrow discussing her new job," Voldemort commanded her, covering her gloved hands with his. "I have duties to fulfil, Bella, and logistics to manage. But you've nothing and no one to be jealous of, you understand?"

"I understand, Master," Bellatrix whispered. He smirked at her and nodded.

"Good. Let's sit down and talk, then. It really was a hell of a mission last night, wasn't it?"

**Author's Note: Whew! So James and Lily Potter are dead! Will there even** _ **be**_   **a prophecy now? Will Voldemort win the war? What do you think will happen? How do you think Snape will react to the news of Lily's death?**

**And now Bellatrix and Voldemort are in a monogamous relationship. What will that mean going forward? What will Narcissa have to say about this? Will they make a public debut as a couple?**

**Where I am, the weather forecast calls for a low temperature of -24F (-31C), so we are freezing! But I know Australia is experiencing record heat! If you take a moment to leave feedback, let me know** **-**   **are you freezing or sweating? Thanks so much for reading!**


	22. Cordelia

Narcissa came walking into the burgundy parlour where Bellatrix was curled up with a book and her warming blanket. Narcissa sat down and tucked her knees up to her chest as Bellatrix set down her copy of  _Castles of Magical Use in Britain_ , and then Narcissa folded her arms and said,

"There's to be a funeral. Have you heard?"

Bellatrix raised her brows. Funerals were always somewhat exciting affairs. "Who's died?"  
"Cordelia Burke," Narcissa said simply. Cordelia Burke was the wife of Caractacus Burke, owner and founder of Borgin and Burkes on Knockturn Alley. Young Tom Riddle had worked for Mr Burke, Bellatrix had been told by her father. He'd certainly want to pay his respects. Aside from that, the Burkes were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"How did Cordelia die?" Bellatrix asked, and Narcissa shrugged a little.

"In her sleep, according to the letter from Mum and Daddy. Peacefully. Isn't that nice? Isn't that the way we'd all like to go?"

"Not me," Bellatrix insisted. "I'd prefer to go like Rodolphus, from a Killing Curse in battle."

"Of course you would." Narcissa rolled her eyes a little and sighed. "Listen. The funeral is in two days' time, at the home of Caractacus Burke in London. Daddy says they'll likely cremate her and have a small memorial luncheon, and Abraxas agrees. Owing to the smaller size of their home, you know? Not everyone in the Sacred Twenty-Eight will go; it'll be people who have worked with the Burkes and relations. But since we're of the House of Black, we're expected to be there. So, are you going, or are you just sending regards and flowers?"

Bellatrix hesitated. "I'll have to ask the Dark Lord whether I'm going or not."

Narcissa seemed surprised. Why would the Dark Lord care whether Bellatrix went to the funeral or not? Bellatrix understood her sister's confusion. She pinched her lips and said a bit tightly,

"Things have changed between him and me, Cissy."

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," said a light voice from the doorway. Bellatrix and Narcissa flew to their feet and dipped into reverential curtsies as Voldemort came walking into the burgundy parlour.

"We were just discussing the funeral of Cordelia Burke, My Lord," said Narcissa, anxiety rippling through her voice.

"Ah. Yes. That's why I've come," said Voldemort. "Bella, we'll want to be among the first ones there; I don't want to make some grand, dramatic entrance halfway through and stir everything up. This is meant to be about Caractacus and his wife."

Narcissa gave Bellatrix an odd look. ' _We'll_  want to be'? Were they going to the funeral  _together?_  Narcissa seemed utterly shocked where she stood. Bellatrix nodded calmly and patiently at Voldemort and confirmed,

"I shall be ready early, My Lord, so that we may be among the first there."

"Right. Thank you," he said. He glanced to Narcissa, then back to Bellatrix, and he said, "We're having a meeting in a few minutes. Be ready to come to the meeting room. Goodbye, ladies."

He bowed his head and turned to go, and as he swept out of the room and the witches stared at the ground respectfully, Bellatrix's heart pounded. He wanted to take her somewhere in public  _with_  him. Granted, it was a funeral, but still. She still had barely come to grips with the idea of monogamy between them, and already he was acting on it publicly. She chewed her lip after the door shut, and Narcissa stood in silence for a long moment before asking,

"Bellatrix, are you  _dating_ the Dark Lord?"

"We are… exclusive," Bellatrix answered, for it was the best response she had. Narcissa pursed her lips, apparently unsure of what to make of that information.

"I see," she said finally. But the conversation couldn't carry on any farther than that, because Bellatrix's Dark Mark began to sear with pain, and she knew Narcissa's was doing the same. She felt drawn to the meeting room, and she knew it was time for the Summons.

Bellatrix and Narcissa wordlessly left the burgundy parlour; Bellatrix figured she'd come back for her warming blanket later. They went straight to the meeting room and were the first ones there. They bowed their heads respectfully when they came inside, and as Bellatrix walked past Voldemort's seat, he caught her wrist and brought her knuckles up to kiss. She smiled a little and moved on to her seat, sliding into it and giving him a look of adoration. Abraxas, Lucius, and then the others began to file in. All the while, Voldemort sat in contemplative silence at the head of the table with his hands folded. The rest of the room buzzed with quiet energy, but no one dared speak. Finally, the entire table was completely filled with Death Eaters, except for one space to the left of Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix frowned and hissed at her master,

"Snape is running late, My Lord?"

He just stared at her. His eyes, the cloudy one and the clear one, were full of doubt. He drummed his fingers on the table. He pulled back his left sleeve and pressed his wand there, and Bellatrix knew he was Summoning Snape. Five more minutes passed in an exceedingly uncomfortable silence. Then, at last, Voldemort slowly rose to his feet and spoke.

"It seems that our newest Death Eater does not intend on joining us today. A pity. I had meant to discuss with him the fact that the old Mudblood friend he'd eschewed, Lily Potter, has been exterminated."

He began to stalk around the outside of the table, and people seated in the chairs seemed nervous as he moved behind them.

"Bellatrix and I went to the home of the Potters in Godric's Hollow," Voldemort informed his Death Eaters. "I killed James Potter, and Bella mercilessly stabbed Lily to death using her magical dagger. We Vanished the bodies and left the Dark Mark in the sky above the home. I would have thought Severus would be happy to hear that the Mudblood had been eradicated."

Narcissa stared at Bellatrix. Her sister would never be comfortable with all the killing Bellatrix did, she knew, but no matter. The others looked profoundly impressed, and also concerned, for Snape was not here, and he ought to be here. Voldemort carried on as he approached Bellatrix's chair.

"After all, he pledged his loyalty to me, to my cause. He vowed to serve me unto the death. He promised that even in the heat of battle, he would not hesitate to throw a Killing Curse at Lily Potter, the Mudblood with whom he was once desperately in love."

There were sneers and tuts of disapproval at the idea of loving a Mudblood, and Voldemort smirked as he stalked.

"Perhaps I have made a mistake," he said. "When I looked into Severus' mind, I sensed that his feelings for Lily had mostly faded with time. But perhaps that was not the case. Perhaps he still bore strong emotion for the Mudblood witch, despite her marriage and despite his promises to serve me. And perhaps that is why he is not here today — because he loved Lily Potter, and we killed her."

He looked down at Bellatrix in her chair at sighed heavily, then glanced back out over the table.

"Let this be Severus Snape's final warning. He may present himself to me within the next five days to explain himself and his absence from today's meeting, or else I shall place a bounty upon his head, and all of you will be tasked with seeking him out for execution. Go forth. Find him. Tell him he has one chance to convince me that Lily Potter's death and his subsequent absence from a meeting are not cause for elimination. This meeting is now dismissed."

Bellatrix and the others rose slowly and started to move from the room. But Voldemort was still right by Bellatrix's chair, and he dragged his fingers along Bellatrix's and up her arm a bit. She shivered and turned toward him, feeling eyes upon her. He curled up half his mouth and murmured,

"My quarters. I've got an individual meeting, and then I'll meet you there."

"Aren't you a bit cross over Snape's betrayal for that sort of thing, Master?" Bellatrix whispered, and he cocked up one eyebrow.

"On the contrary; my anger can only be assuaged by physical satisfaction. I require your service. Go wait for me."

Bellatrix nodded and bowed her head, and she went off to fetch her warming blanket.

He wasn't lying about needing satisfaction. He wound up drilling her so mercilessly into the sheets that she screamed into the pillows and pounded the mattress with her fists. He wound up slapping her backside with an open palm and groaning like an animal as he spilled himself inside of her. He wound up dragging her into his shower afterward and scrubbing her body roughly with soap as he kissed her lips until they bruised. He eventually sent Bellatrix on her way after grumbling and complaining that she may have been right about Severus Snape. He assured her that if he didn't make himself present and apologetic within five days, Voldemort would see him dead.

Two days later, Bellatrix dressed in a high-necked black velvet dress and lace-up black boots, and she tied her curls into a thick braid over one shoulder. She went without makeup, since it was a funeral, and she left her quarters. She pulled on her newly Transfigured, perfectly fitting gloves and her heavy fur-lined cloak, though it was unseasonably mild today. She went downstairs and walked down the corridor, seeing Voldemort standing outside his office. He was in all black, as well - heavy brocade and velvet, looking intimidating. He held out a gloved hand as Bellatrix approached, and she put her fingers into his palm, flashing him a warm little smile as she reverently bowed her head.

"You haven't heard from him?" she asked as they walked out toward the foyer. "From Snape?"

"No." Voldemort sighed. "My guess? He heard, somehow, that the Dark Mark had been cast above the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow. Perhaps he even went there to investigate. He discovered that the body of his beloved Lily had been Vanished. And he did as you predicted, Bellatrix; he turned on me."

Bellatrix gulped as they walked down the stairs in the foyer, hand-in-hand. She asked her master carefully,

"You think his loyalty to that Mudblood wench is powerful enough to override any actual devotion to you and your cause?"

"I'm not sure yet," Voldemort admitted, "but I think you were right to at least be suspicious."

"Still, I was disrespectful in expressing that suspicion, and I am sorry," Bellatrix sighed. Voldemort shrugged.

"We move forward. Today is important to me, Bellatrix. It is a premiere of sorts. A presentation."

She felt him squeeze her hand a little, and her breath quickened in her lungs as they moved through the gardens toward the gate. Bellatrix stared up at her master, at the wizard she had admired and adored for years now, at the man who had always seemed hopelessly out of reach. She squeezed his hand back as they went through the gate, and then Voldemort Disapparated, pulling Bellatrix through the black pinch and whirl. She gasped as they came to on the foyer of the Kensington townhouse where Caractacus Burke lived. Voldemort and Bellatrix removed their cloaks and gloves and Banished them into the small library to the right with a temporary sign on the door marked  _Cloak Room_. It was hardly as though they could hand their cloaks to the House-Elf.

"In here, I think." Voldemort took Bellatrix's hand and pulled her to the left, into the spacious parlour. Caractacus Burke, the aged and elegant owner of Borgin and Burke's, stood beside a blue-and-white cremation urn on a pedestal. He bowed his head as Voldemort walked in, and he murmured softly,

"My Lord. How good to see you here. Thank you for coming."

"Caractacus. Allow me to offer my most sincere condolences," Voldemort said. "I am comforted to hear that her passing was painless - for her, at least. For you, I realise, it has been painful indeed."

Burke's eyes welled a little, and he nodded. "She was my everything, Master. It is difficult to convey to those who have never loved so deeply, the way another person can consume you from the inside out."

"Hmm." Voldemort nodded and dragged his thumb over Bellatrix's. People began to filter into the parlour then, so Voldemort backed away and let others give their condolences to Mr Burke. Everyone made a point of bowing or curtsying to Voldemort, and everyone noticed the way he was holding Bellatrix Lestrange's hand. After a while, when the room was full, Voldemort asked,

"Would you care for some wine?"  
"Oh. Erm… I'm not sure where they're keeping it," Bellatrix said airily. Voldemort smirked.

"In the dining room, I'm sure. Red or white?"

Her heart sped up in her chest. She stared up at him and whispered, "Red, please."

He nodded and bent to kiss her forehead, right there in front of everyone. She felt the burn of his kiss on her skin as he turned and walked away. The crowd parted for him, with witches dipping and wizards bowing. He disappeared down the outside corridor, making his way to the dining room. Suddenly Druella Black and Narcissa came rushing up to Bellatrix.

"He just kissed you!" Narcissa hissed, "at a funeral, in front of everybody!"

"I know." Bellatrix chewed her lip, and Druella scoffed.

"What would your poor, dead husband think? Three months gone and already you're being kissed on the forehead by some other man?"

"Some other man," Bellatrix repeated, her voice a high-pitched, incredulous choke. "The Dark Lord is hardly  _some other man_."

"Still." Druella's voice was full of venom then. "I think it is absolutely disgusting that you would even consider… what sort of whore would scarcely give her husband time to go cold in his grave before -"

"Hello, Druella."

Druella whirled around to see Lord Voldemort, and she accidentally barreled into him. He stumbled back a step, the wine in the two glasses he carried sloshing just a little. He rolled his eyes, and Druella quickly caught herself, dropping into a curtsy along with Narcissa. Bellatrix bowed her head and tried not to smirk.

"Is all well with the Ladies Black?" Voldemort asked in a light voice. He handed a glass of red wine to Bellatrix, who gratefully accepted it and nodded her thanks. Druella's face flushed scarlet with humiliated anxiety, and she whispered,

"All is well, Master."

"Oh. Good." Voldemort sipped his own red wine and moved to stand beside Bellatrix. He bent and used his left index finger to move Bellatrix's chin toward him. He touched his lips to Bellatrix's and mumbled, "I wouldn't want any discord among you three fine witches, hmm?"

Bellatrix stared up at him, shaking her head. He pulled back and cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at Druella. Bellatrix's mother and sister just gaped, and other eyes around the room were staring, too.

Fortunately, their attention was pulled forward, to where Caractacus Burke and his son Caeso eulogised Cordelia. They spoke about her dignified, long life. They spoke about how she'd represented her maiden family, the Bulstrodes, and her married Burke family so very well throughout the years. They spoke of how she'd been an expert magical baker who had been known for her Yorkshire pudding and her French macarons. They talked of her gardens out back where she'd perfectly tended to roses and lilacs and irises. And then everyone raised their illuminated wands to honour Cordelia, and people went back to sipping wine and chatting.

Voldemort circulated around, giving attention and conversation to almost everybody present. He spoke with Rabastan Lestrange for so long that Bellatrix began to think something was wrong. Eventually Voldemort came over and pulled Bellatrix away from her father, and he said in a low voice to her,

"Rabastan went to Cokeworth looking for Snape earlier today. He found the family home there, but Snape's parents claim he moved out as soon as he graduated Hogwarts and has been living alone in a small flat in London. The Muggle father refused to give the address, and the mother hesitated. Rabastan Imperiused them and got the address. He Obliviated them."

"So, we have the address of Snape's flat?" Bellatrix asked. "We know where he's living?"

"Yes," Voldemort affirmed. "I gave my orders. The boy has been given five days from the meeting to explain himself to me in person and vow his undying loyalty in spite of Lily Potter's death, or I will kill him myself."

Bellatrix dug her teeth into her lip. She would not argue. She would not fight. Voldemort narrowed his eyes down to her.

"You don't think I should give him any more time."

"Five days' worth of insidious damage; he's seen and heard too much to be left alive if he's turned," Bellatrix muttered. "I think you should go to his flat and demand to know why he wasn't at the meeting. If he isn't there, wait for him to show up. If he tries to shield his thoughts from you, Imperius him. Torture him. Figure out if he's turned on you over the Mudblood girl. That is… that is…"

"Your advice," Voldemort nodded, and Bellatrix shrugged.

"Unsolicited advice, I know, but it is the path I believe to be the wisest. Master."

"You know, I actually think you're right." Voldemort licked his bottom lip and sighed. He quirked up half his mouth and reached to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Come on, then. Let's go find Severus Snape. This ought to be fun."

**Author's Note: Uh-Oh. So Severus Snape's reaction to Lily's death was** **to basically go**   **AWOL. Not so smart. What do you think will happen to him? Will he be anywhere near his flat, or will the Order be hiding him? If Voldemort does find him, will he trick Voldemort, or will he wind up dead like Lily?**

**And just a friendly heads-up that there is a big juicy lemon headed our way pretty soon here.**   **:** **}**

**Thank you so very much for reading, and thanks so much for any and all feedback! I really appreciate it more than I can say!**


	23. Fire and Ice

"Severus Snape lives  _here?_ " Bellatrix curled up her lip as she ascended the last few stairs onto the landing of the third storey. This Muggle building was a hovel, Bellatrix thought. In the flat to the right, she could hear a baby shrieking bloody murder, and in the flat at the end of the corridor, two people were engaged in a screaming match. Water dribbled from the plaster ceiling in a slow, steady leak.

"I imagine he's rather poor," Voldemort said simply, and Bellatrix scuffed her boot on the threadbare carpet. She pointed her wand to the flat on the left, marked with a crooked brass  _3A._

"This one's his, I suppose," she said, and Voldemort stepped up to the door. He cricked his neck and shrugged.

"We shall do this with the path of least resistance, which means being polite first," Voldemort informed Bellatrix. He raised his hand to the door, and Bellatrix hissed,

"Master, do you honestly think he will answer the door?"

"No," Voldemort smirked, "but we shall try."

He knocked four times, and then he cleared his throat and took a step back from the door. Bellatrix frowned and waited, her wand at the ready. But nothing happened. She listened to the baby screaming, to the Muggles arguing. She listened to the  _drip-drip-drop_  of water from the ceiling. Still, nothing happened. Voldemort knocked again, but more time passed. Nothing. Snape was not home, or he wasn't answering.

" _Alohomora_ _._ " Voldemort aimed his wand at the doorknob, and it twisted. The door popped open with a creak, and Bellatrix pushed on it. She walked into the flat with her wand held out, and as she moved inside, she realised this place had been cleaned to a shine.

The tiny kitchen was worn and broken-down, with black-and-white tile and old Muggle appliances, but there was nothing on the gleaming-clean countertops. There was a sofa in the tiny sitting-room, a threadbare green velvet monstrosity that clashed with the salmon walls. But that was all there was in the room. No wall hangings, no Wireless, no rug, no curtains. Bellatrix stalked out of the sitting room and into the minuscule bedroom. There was a single bed with a scuffed pine frame, and its modest blankets had been pulled up tightly around the lone pillow. Bellatrix scowled. She had a bad feeling suddenly. She flung open the drawers of the pine dresser one by one. Empty, all of them. She called out to Voldemort,

"Master, I do not think he has been here for some time."

"Check the wardrobe," Voldemort commanded from the doorway. Bellatrix rushed over to the pine wardrobe and wrenched the doors open. It was empty inside. Voldemort sighed from where he was and left the room, and Bellatrix hustled to run after him. She followed him next door to the little bathroom, and in there they found a barren shelving unit and an empty medicine cabinet. But inside the shower, Bellatrix discovered a half-used bar of soap.

"Well, you wouldn't take that with you, I suppose," she hummed, and Voldemort yanked the shower curtain shut in anger. He walked briskly back out into the sitting room and leaned heavily onto the back of the sofa.

"D'you think he's with Dumbledore?" Bellatrix asked cautiously. Voldemort nodded.

"The Order is hiding him. I know it. He was so shocked and horrified by the Mudblood Lily Potter's death that he completely turned against me."

"And you can't track him through his Dark Mark, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked helplessly. Voldemort shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No. I wish they worked like that, but they don't. They're for communication. I can Summon or notify my Death Eaters through the Marks, and they can do the same to me. But I can not track anyone's location through them. I wish I could."

Bellatrix sighed deeply and whispered, "I'm sorry, Master."

On instinct, she reached up to touch at his back. She wasn't sure quite why she felt compelled to do that. He softened under her hand a little as though she were soothing him with her touch. He turned to look at her, and he murmured,

"I want to get profoundly drunk. I am so irritated just now, Bella, and there is nothing I can do about it. More than half of my forces are involved in mourning Cordelia Burke today. And, anyway, I wouldn't know where to start tracking Snape right this moment. I'm not even sure it's a priority. All I've got is an empty flat and a betrayal."

"That's not all you've got," Bellatrix insisted. "You've got me, and I will give you anything you want."

"Anything I want," Voldemort repeated. He stood up from the sofa and put his finger under Bellatrix's chin. He tipped her face up to his and whispered, "Be careful what you promise me."

She stared straight at him and licked her lip. "Anything you want."

"Mmm. Let's go." Suddenly he grabbed her arm and Disapparated, and she yelped as they were pulled into the black void. When they came to outside of Malfoy Manor, Voldemort took her hand and yanked on her, dragging her roughly toward the house. He walked with such long, quick strides that Bellatrix had to trot to keep up, and by the time they reached the manor, she was breathless.

Up the foyer steps they went, and down the corridor past his office. They continued past the dining room and the ballroom, around the corner and down another long corridor, until at last they reached the double doors that led to Voldemort's suite. He waved his left arm through the air and sent the doors flying open with wandless magic, and he stalked quickly into the vestibule with Bellatrix in tow. He finally released her hand so that he could push open the secondary entrance door, and then they stepped into his enormous great room.

"We will be taking shots," Voldemort announced crisply. "What will you drink?"

"Shots?" Bellatrix asked anxiously. "Erm… Have you got a bottle of Havisham's Fire and Ice?"

He narrowed his eyes as he moved toward his bar. "I thought you hated firewhisky."

"I can do shots of Fire and Ice," Bellatrix smirked. Havisham's Fire and Ice was a combination of firewhisky with peppermint schnapps, a most interesting flavour mixture that resulted in a cooling and burning shot. Bellatrix had knocked back more than a few with Rodolphus and Rabastan in the past. She watched as Voldemort took out six shot glasses and a bottle of Havisham's Fire and Ice, and he poured one shot after another as he declared,

"Three shots to start. Then we'll have a little fun whilst I attempt to forget about the fact that I made a Mudblood-loving coward a Death Eater."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Master," Bellatrix mumbled as she stepped up to the bar. She picked up one of the shot glasses, and Voldemort set down the liquor bottle. He picked up a glass and raised it.

"To Severus Snape, wherever he may be," he said, and Bellatrix frowned until Voldemort added, "May he be slain by your wand or mine when we next face him. To his death."

"To his death," Bellatrix affirmed, and she knocked back the shot. She sputtered and coughed as she struggled to down the shot. She laughed and shook her head. "Oh, I'm still not good with firewhisky, even with the peppermint."

"Too bad; you've got two more to go. Make a toast." Voldemort tipped his shot glass upside-down, and Bellatrix did the same before reaching for the second shot. She raised it and cleared her throat roughly.

"To the Dark Lord," she said grandly, "and all his hopes and dreams and aspirations. May everything he aims to do for the wizarding community come to pass, and may he reign over all of us in glory forever."

"My goodness." Voldemort raised his eyebrows and quirked up half his mouth. He knocked his shot back quickly. "I will drink to that, certainly."

Bellatrix struggled through another shot, crinkling her eyes shut as she tipped her glass upside down. Mercifully, Voldemort provided her with a glass of water. As she picked up her third shot, he raised his glass and said,

"To Bellatrix Lestrange."

She stared at him then with a little smile, shaking her head. But he nodded and began again.

"To Bellatrix Lestrange, the most beautiful and intelligent and skilled and terrifying and wonderful witch in the entire world. May she fight for me and… and be with me… for a very long time."

"Master." Bellatrix's eyes welled so heavily then that she couldn't see. She sipped her shot and then forced it down, and as she sipped her chaser of water, she felt profoundly emotional. Perhaps, she thought, it was all the whisky and schnapps hitting her. Or perhaps it had been Voldemort's words. In any case, she felt sloppy.

"Bella," Voldemort said, and when she looked up, he had come round the bar and was holding out a hand to her. She took it, and he guided her away from the bar and through the doors that led to his bedroom. He wordlessly led her to the bed, and though Bellatrix was still fully clothed in her black mourning gown and boots, he urged her up onto the bed.

"Shall I get undressed, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, but he insisted,

"I don't require you to take everything off for this."

"For… for what, Master?" Bellatrix let him push her back against the pillows, let him hike her skirts up toward her waist, and suddenly she began to understand. He was going to use his mouth on her. She came alive all of a sudden, tingling from her scalp to her toes. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and brought them down, and Bellatrix shut her eyes and licked her bottom lip as she whispered, "Yes."

"Do you want it, Bella?" Voldemort knelt between her parted legs and slid her knickers down, bringing them over her boots and tossing them aside. He moved forward and touched his fingers between her legs. She flushed wet at once, going damp around his thumb as he slid it up and down her folds. She let her eyes flutter shut, let her head tip back, and she whined a little. He took his time dragging his thumb around her entrance, pushing his middle finger into her body and twisting it a little. "Do you want it?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered frantically. "Yes, I want it."

"What do you want?" he demanded. Bellatrix bucked her hips against his hand and whimpered. His fingers moved with more urgency then. His thumb stroked up along her clit in heavy, long movements, and two of his fingers thrust into her. "Tell me what you want, Bellatrix."

"I want to come!" she exclaimed desperately. Suddenly his hand was gone, and Bellatrix gasped. Her eyes sprang open, and she prepared to complain, to protest. But then she watched as Voldemort dipped between her legs, his head vanishing betwixt her thighs. Bellatrix yelped as she felt the abrupt warm, wet sensation of his tongue making contact. His hands gripped her thighs, and Bellatrix leaned heavily onto her elbows as she watched. He licked up in long, slow strokes, over and over again. It felt absolutely marvelous, the way he was moving his tongue in long, flat strokes. Bellatrix threw her head back and groaned, squirming where she lay. Voldemort tightened his grip on Bellatrix's thighs to steady her, and his tongue ventured inside of her entrance. He hooked his tongue and sucked hard on Bellatrix's clit, and she cried out loudly. She grabbed at his shoulders, clawed at his back, and she whispered helplessly,

"I am going to come. Oh,  _oh_ , I am going to come."

"Good." He said the word against her clit, his voice low and vibrating. Bellatrix gasped at the feel of the vibration, and Voldemort let out a low rumble of a laugh against her body. He licked a few more times, long, deep thrusts of his tongue along her folds and then up against her clit, and he suckled on her clit a few times before murmuring onto her, "You are precious to me."

" _Oh!_ " Bellatrix collapsed back against the pillows and threw her hips hard against Voldemort's face. He burrowed himself against her, and her fingers tightened roughly on her thighs. He groaned as Bellatrix descended into the chaos of an almost violent orgasm. Bellatrix could feel him kissing her folds as they convulsed and contracted around his mouth. She could feel his hands stroking at the insides of her thighs. She was distantly aware of her presence in the room, through the ringing in her ears and the blinding light in her eyes. She was only vaguely able to move, to clench her fingers at the blankets and push her head back against the pillow. She was a little drunk from the shots she'd taken, and the alcohol combined with the orgasm to make her head spin wildly.

After what felt like an eternity, Voldemort came up from between her legs, and when he did, his lips were pearlescent and swollen. He used the inside of his wrist to wipe at his mouth, and Bellatrix asked hoarsely,

"Will you enter me now, Master, to find your own satisfaction?"  
He smirked as he knelt and began sliding Bellatrix's knickers back over her boots.

"I found my own satisfaction grinding my cock against trouser fabric and mattress, Bella. You make me feel like a seventeen-year-old boy again, somehow. I've no idea how you manage it; fifty-two-year-old men ought not be able to feel and do the things you make me… hmm… Bella."

He slid up to lie beside Bellatrix, and he lay on his back beside her. He shut his eyes and covered them with his hands as he whispered,

"Bellatrix… I can not quite comprehend the ways that you affect me. And this is certainly the Fire and Ice talking right now, and I'm blathering on, but I wish for you to know that my attraction to you is profoundly physical, and deeply… something else. And I do not ever wish to be without you in my bed, and I do not ever wish to be without you by my side. So. That's that."

Bellatrix sat up slowly, pulling on her knickers and pushing down her skirts. She stared at Voldemort as he pulled his hands away and stared at her. He had come in his trousers, she thought. He had her fluids on his lips. He was tipsy from the shots they'd done. He was probably still upset about Snape. He was a mess. But he didn't seem to care about any of those factors right now. He was just staring up at her with warm eyes, one blind and one seeing, and he said quietly,

"Stay. That's an order from your master."

"Stay the night, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort shook his head as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip.

"Every night. Move some of your clothes down here. Sleep in this bed with me. Take your showers in my bathroom. Read your books on my sofa. I want you here."

Bellatrix blinked quickly a few times and stared at her lap.

"Is that the Fire and Ice talking, Master?"

"No." His voice was sharp then. "That is Lord Voldemort talking."

Bellatrix raised her eyes to his again, and she touched at his chest. "You know, My Lord, I really do love you."

"Mmm-hmm." He covered her hand with his and brought her knuckles up to her lips, kissing them with his rough lips. He shut his eyes and just breathed for a long moment, and then at last he mumbled,

"It must be nearing dinner time. I suppose I ought to clean myself up. Can't go anywhere like this."

Bellatrix giggled a little, pulling her hand back. She thought of the way he'd pleasured her so expertly with his mouth and hands, the way he'd brought her to ecstasy, the way he'd drunk alcohol with her as they'd made toasts to Snape's death and to each other. She thought of the way she loved him, the way she would serve him unto her dying breath.

And suddenly she could not think of Rodolphus, no matter how hard she tried.

**Author's Note: My goodness. These two are** **certainly cozying**   **up and getting serious. Cute and sexy! But Snape… bad Snape! He appears to have turned tail when he heard about Lily. Will Voldemort hunt him down? This story is nearing its end — just a heads-up! Thanks so very much for reading and a massive thank-you for reviewing.**


	24. Truth

"Bella."

She made a gruff little noise and rolled over toward her master, touching at his bare chest and kissing his bicep. She was still mostly asleep as he murmured,

"I have a meeting with Mulciber at half-past eight. About the planned takeover of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. So I've got to get going."

"Mmph. Yes, Master." Bellatrix sat up slowly, but he pulled her down by her wrist and mumbled,

"I didn't say  _now_ , and I didn't say  _you_  had to get up. Come here."

She laughed as he dragged up the hem of her nightgown and hauled her over to straddle him. She smirked as he arranged her atop his trousers. She'd been sleeping in his bed for a week now, and she'd grown wonderfully accustomed to morning sex with him. But he didn't take things farther this morning; instead, he held Bellatrix's wrists in his hands and said quietly,

"It is time to tell you the truth."

"The… the truth, Master?" Her smile faded, and she gave him a very worried look. He stabilised her where she straddled him, bracing her with his hands, and he said gravely,

"The things I created to protect myself were Horcruxes. Do you know what a Horcrux is?"

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she shook her head. A  _Horcrux?_  She'd never even heard the word.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling nervous. Voldemort sighed and explained,

"A Horcrux is a vessel, an object in which a witch or wizard hides a fragment of their soul. The goal is that, by splitting the soul and protecting it, one becomes essentially immortal."

"And you have done this?" Bellatrix asked. He squeezed at her wrists a little and nodded.

"Several times," he confirmed. "I have spent much of the last several years crafting protective… measures… for one of them. Others are hidden. I have them to ensure that no stray Killing Curse or poison or dagger blow could take me down."

Bellatrix stared into his unseeing eye, the one rendered blind by a bad poison in his youth. She thought of how easily she'd murdered Isla Asher, the way she'd stabbed Lily Potter to death. She thought of Lord Voldemort triumphant, unable to be slain, and suddenly she understood why he would endure all of the scars and the damage in order to protect his immortality.

"Why are you telling me this, Master?" Bellatrix asked in a soft voice, and he dragged his thumbs around the insides of her wrists and sighed,

"Because you and I are… together. Aren't we?"

"Yes, we are." Bellatrix's eyes welled a bit at that. She shook her head and asked, "Are you… all right? Even with all you've done?"

"All right? Yes, I'm all right." Voldemort kept rubbing at her wrists, and it felt so good that Bellatrix shut her eyes and licked her bottom lip. She tipped her head back a little.

"Will you teach me how to make one?" she asked. "How to make a Horcrux?"

"No," Voldemort snapped, and his hands froze on Bellatrix's wrists. She opened her mouth to ask why, but Voldemort informed her, "You are my most valiant and vicious warrior, Bellatrix, but there is  _nothing_  that would convince me to watch you endure what a person must undergo in order to create a Horcrux. Nothing. I wouldn't watch you do it for all the gold in Gringotts."

Bellatrix's stomach churned, and she shifted a little atop Voldemort. "What must someone undergo?"

"Days on end of pain ten times worse than the Cruciatus," he said. "Fire in your veins that burns like a never-ending inferno. Shooting, stabbing, relentless agony in the marrow of your bones. The sensation that your brain is going to explode out of your head. The feeling that your eyes are going to burst out of their sockets. The feel of teeth and nails being wrenched out one by one, of organs being surgically removed without relief, of being sliced apart with razor blades. All of this with precisely no means of alleviating any of the suffering, lest you interfere with the making of the Horcrux. All of this whilst paralysed and silently screaming, days on end. I would not have you suffer it, Bellatrix."

She stared straight into his eyes, the cloudy one and the clear one, and she whispered, "Not even if it meant that I couldn't die?"

His lips parted a little, and he shook his head a bit. "I could not - would not - see you suffer it. I have done it… too many times, probably… and the thought of you enduring it makes me want to vomit."

Suddenly his eyes grew visibly wet and heavy, and Bellatrix frowned. He was deeply affected by the thought of her creating a Horcrux, by the notion of her suffering. Bellatrix gulped.

"All right," she whispered. "I won't learn to make one, Master. I shall do as you command, always."

"Because you know that I care deeply for you," he snarled, grabbing at her wrists and squeezing so hard that it hurt. His eyes grew abruptly sharp and angry. "You know that I adore you more than I should. You know that you mean too much to me."

"Ouch." Bellatrix wrenched her eyes shut against the pain and leaned back a little. Voldemort released her wrists from the pressure, brought one up to his lips, and kissed the inside. He murmured against her skin,

"You know that you are mine in your entirety."

"Yes." Bellatrix nodded, her heart thrumming in her chest. "Yes, Master. I belong to you. From my wand to my body, from my -"

"You know that I love you."

She froze. She blinked down at him, and he stared steadily up at her. His throat bobbed, and he kissed the inside of her wrist again. He nodded a little and whispered,

"Yes. Even this broken wizard can feel it, I have come to realise. Perhaps what I feel is not the silly, stupid stuff of songs and poetry. I am no romantic, and what exists between us is not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. But I do love you, for all that is worth."

"Well. I think that it is worth quite a lot, My Lord," Bellatrix said thickly through the tears that had formed in her eyes. She shifted her weight a little, still straddling Voldemort with her wrists in his hands, and he brought her down until he could kiss her cheekbone and hum against her skin,

"I really do have to get ready for a meeting with Mulciber. But I had to tell you. For days, I have ached to confess it to you. So now you have it all - knowledge of all kinds that could shatter me into a thousand pieces in the wrong hands. I am a wizard with a splintered soul, a man in love. What are you going to do with this knowledge, Bellatrix?"  
She kissed his cheek and put her lips beside his ear, and she said quietly,

"I shall serve you, Master, and I shall adore you. And until the day I die, I am yours. Entirely yours."

"Wondrous creature." Voldemort wrapped his arm around her and reached between them, shoving down his pyjama trousers. "I shall be quick."

**Author's Note: He said it! If you follow my writing, you know that I firmly believe that Voldemort could feel a twisted, perverted sense of "love"** _ **under the right circumstances.**_   **So now that they're this close, what will their next public outing look like? And what's going to happen to Snape?**

**Apologies for the very, very short mini-chapter today. We got a St. Bernard puppy today (whom we have named Ginny, after Ginny Weasley), so writing was squeezed in! Thanks for your understanding and I'll have a bigger update tomorrow.**


	25. Avada Kedavra

One pleasant day at the tail end of February, Bellatrix was walking in the gardens with Narcissa. It was warm enough that she didn't need gloves, though she was a bit sad not to put on the ones Voldemort had made for her.

"So," Narcissa said as they strode through the spindly rose bushes, "I am willing to try some extreme measures."

"Extreme measures?" Bellatrix repeated, looking up at her sister. "About trying for a baby, you mean?"

Narcissa looked queasy as she blinked slowly and said, "Fertilinatis Serum."

Bellatrix gasped. That stuff was more than a little dangerous, known to cause death in up to a tenth of the witches that consumed it. For that reason, it was entirely illegal. Bellatrix chomped her lip as Narcissa shrugged.

"I shall have to brew it myself and take it. I will do whatever it takes in order to get pregnant, and by all accounts, this is a last resort that actually works."

Bellatrix huffed a breath and then sighed heavily. "Well, I wish you all the best, Cissy."

"Aren't you going to try to talk me out of it?" Narcissa asked, looking highly sceptical. Bellatrix shook her head with conviction.

"I know you, Cissy. You're my sister. And if you really believe that taking Fertilinatis Serum is the key to your happiness, in spite of all the risks, then who am I to stop you?"

Narcissa opened her mouth to say something in response, but suddenly Bellatrix yelped, for her Dark Mark was searing like fire. She clasped a hand over her left forearm and focused on the call. She wasn't being Summoned to the meeting room. Wales. She sensed Wales.

The main doors of the manor flew open then, and Lord Voldemort came soaring outside with his black robes billowing about him and his wand extended. He was trailed by Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy. Voldemort neared Bellatrix with dashing steps, and he barked,

"We have to go; I've been called by Yaxley and Avery. They're in Wales doing a routine Muggle attack. Something's gone wrong."

Narcissa looked frightened as her husband, father-in-law, and sister joined their master in running toward the gate, but she fretfully stayed behind in the garden. Narcissa was not a soldier. Bellatrix trotted beside Voldemort toward the gate, thinking of the fact that they were going into battle unmasked owing to the urgency of the circumstances. She felt Voldemort seize her hand, and as soon as they were at the Apparition Point, he took her by Side-Along to Wales.

When they came to, they were in a run-down coal mining village in the mountains. It appeared they were on the outside of town, near the mine itself. It was drizzling here. Bellatrix looked around and saw that Avery was lying on the ground, unmoving and staring. Was he dead? Yaxley was throwing hexes and Curses at the four Order members before him - Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody, and Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

Abraxas Malfoy made a move to Curse Moody, but Moody quickly Stunned Abraxas, then turned his wand on Lucius and cast a nonverbal Stunning Spell on the younger Malfoy. Soon enough, both of the blond wizards had shot backward into the mud, unconscious and slumped. Bellatrix aimed her wand at Moody and screamed with all the air in her lungs,

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Alastor Moody rocketed backward and skittered along the muddy hill, rolling a little before coming to a stop. He didn't move again, and the green light faded. He was dead. Before Bellatrix could properly process the fact that she'd just killed one of their most skilled and feared enemies, she saw a blue light out of the corner of her eye. A Stunning Spell, headed straight for her from Gideon Prewett. She moved very quickly to deflect the spell, sending silvery-blue sparks flying. Almost instantly, Fabian Prewett sent a Killing Curse her way, but Bellatrix shrieked and dodged, rolling into the mud as the light rain soaked her through. The Curse shot past her and kept going until it hit the hillside behind her, sending dirt and rocks soaring through the air.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ " Bellatrix shouted another Killing Curse right back at Fabian Prewett, and when it hit him, he smacked backward and collapsed onto the rainy grass. Gideon, his brother, dashed over to him to see whether Fabian was actually dead, and the second he realised the truth, he raised his wand to Bellatrix and yelled,

" _Immobulus_ _!_ "

As soon as the Freezing Charm hit Bellatrix, her thought process involved wondering. Why, she wondered, hadn't Gideon just killed her? Why was she now lying in the mud, staring sideways, unable to move, instead of being dead? In any case, Gideon's cowardice - or perhaps his desire to take her as a prisoner - allowed her to witness the duel happening between Voldemort and Dumbledore.

The spells were being cast nonverbally, with lightning-fast ricochets of multi-colored light. Voldemort threw up a massive shield at one point after enough of the  _spell-block-spell-block_  dance. Dumbledore then cast a spell that sent lime green and purple sparks bouncing quickly off of Voldemort's shield. Voldemort ripped down his shield, jabbed his wand toward Dumbledore, and screamed,

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

A hair's breadth separated Dumbledore from his death. He Disapparated just in time. He vanished from the spot where he'd been standing, disappearing into thin air, and the Killing Curse hit the bare-twigged tree behind him, making it shudder and quake. Gideon Prewett ran toward Fabian again and grabbed at his dead brother's arm, Disapparating just like Dumbledore had done. They'd left Moody's body behind.

Voldemort let out a loud, frustrated yell. He slashed his wand through the air, and the tree before him was sliced through its thick trunk, toppling over with slow, loud, crackling authority. Voldemort came dashing over toward Bellatrix, finding her immobilised, and he quickly waved his wand over her.

" _Finite_ _Incantatem_ _,_ " he snapped, and Bellatrix felt life come back into her limbs and lungs. She sat up, muddy and wet, and she mumbled,

"I killed Alastor Moody and Fabian Prewett, My Lord."

He snatched at her hair and yanked her close, kissing her roughly. He drove his face against hers and insisted,

"You are a good girl, and I do love you."

He stalked over to Lucius and Abraxas, murmuring a few  _Rennervates_  until they woke, and he roused the immobilised Avery. Yaxley was moaning on the ground with a bloody injury that ran up the side of his thigh and hip, and Voldemort crouched beside him and muttered a few healing spells to tide his soldier over. Bellatrix walked over to Moody's body, kicked at it, and asked,

"Shall I Vanish him, My Lord?"

"Leave him there to rot," Voldemort commanded. "They know he's dead. They know where we battled. Leave no Dark Mark. Let them come fetch his muddy, stinking corpse. Let's go."

* * *

The next day, there was to be a grand dinner party for Abraxas and Adelaide's thirtieth wedding anniversary. Cygnus and Druella Black had been invited, along with the Malfoys' good friends, the Yaxleys and the Mulcibers. Bellatrix dressed in a slinky, sexy black gown for dinner, a strappy confection that showed off her skinny arms and the bit of cleavage she possessed. She went into Voldemort's bathroom and stood before the mirror, arranging her curls into a low chignon. She hummed as she pulled her hair just so. Suddenly a reflection appeared in the mirror - her master.

"Hullo, My Lord," she said quietly, and he smirked at her in the mirror as he declared,

"You are unfathomably beautiful."

She sucked in air as he dragged a knuckle along her shoulder blade. He looked so handsome just now, she thought. She whimpered a little, and he licked his lip.

"I wish to tell you that once you have killed Severus Snape, you will create a Horcrux."

Bellatrix froze. She stabbed the last pin, the ornamental black and silver one, into her hair, and she asked in a shaking voice,

"Wh-What made you change your mind?"

"I was concerned, whilst dueling Dumbledore, that you had been killed. It was eating at me, the thought of that," he told her. "I can not have the weight of that worry on my head in battle. You will need to be protected. You will need to be safe."

Bellatrix nodded, trying not to think of all the pain he'd described. "What will I use as my vessel? What object will I use to hold my soul?"

Voldemort opened his left fist and held out his palm to her, revealing a pear-shaped emerald that glistened like a star. There were little rivers of inclusion within it, but it was beautiful just the same.

"This was a glove," Voldemort said. "A glove that I made for you. Now it is a fine, expensive emerald of distinctive shape and quality. It will be stored in your Gringotts vault."

"After I kill Severus Snape," Bellatrix said breathlessly, and Voldemort shut his fist again and nodded.

"After you kill Severus Snape."

They walked down to the dinner party hand-in-hand. When they entered the dining room, everyone rose respectfully. Bellatrix's parents seemed shocked to see their daughter clutching the fingers of the Dark Lord himself. The Mulcibers and the Yaxleys appeared similarly surprised. But nobody dared say anything about the matter, not even when Voldemort pulled out Bellatrix's chair by hand and pushed her in. He took his own seat and raised his wine glass, and everyone else did the same.

"To Abraxas and Adelaide," he said warmly, "and thirty years of a beautiful marriage between them. You have produced Lucius, and you have given one another such joy. Here is to the next thirty years, and the thirty after that. I wish you both a most happy anniversary. Cheers."

"Happy anniversary, Mum and Dad," said Lucius sincerely. Everyone drank, and the mood was quite merry as the first course of carrot soup appeared before them. Bellatrix sipped at her soup and flashed Voldemort a happy smile as they ate. But then she noticed that Narcissa was just stirring her soup and not eating at all. She scowled, wondering if her sister was being negatively affected by the dangerous fertility serum she'd brewed herself. She stared at Narcissa, who just pinched her lips back.

Yaxley began to discuss the battle where Bellatrix had killed Moody and Fabian Prewett, where Voldemort had dueled Dumbledore.

"It was a glorious display of our power," he said happily. "Of course, I managed to wind up immobilised."

"Only after fending off Dumbledore and the others until we arrived, Mr Yaxley," Bellatrix pointed out.

"Bellatrix displayed a spectacular degree of valour and vicious, quick wit," said Voldemort, speaking up from where he sat holding a glass of wine. Bellatrix's eyes went wide at the praise, and she stared at him. She gulped heavily and looked to her mother, who had set down her spoon, and then back to Voldemort, who carried on, "I am exceptionally proud of the way she killed two of our enemies in quick order."

He set down his wine, reached for Bellatrix's hand, and brought her knuckles to his lips to kiss. The room had gone quiet and still by this point. Bellatrix nodded.

"Thank you, Master."

"And I thought I could adore you no more, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, raising his eyebrows, "but then, there you were, rolling away from one Killing Curse and hitting Fabian Prewett with another one a scant moment later. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant."

A little round of quiet applause worked its way through the room, and Bellatrix's cheeks went hot. Voldemort slowly released her hand, and she felt the pressure of her family's stares upon her. Lucius Malfoy mercifully shifted the conversation to talk about Abraxas' and Adelaide's wedding day thirty years earlier, and the celebrated couple began to talk about their marriage.

As Bellatrix ate her roast duck in silence, she thought over just what had happened to her over the past months. In the autumn, she had accidentally killed the husband with whom she had been madly in love. She had attended his funeral. She had mourned him. She had descended into a deep depression, a bland and useless haze. She had returned to her master's service, and she had begun to fall in love with that same master. Now she was living in his quarters, and he apparently loved her back. She was going to kill Severus Snape. She was going to make a Horcrux.

It was a complicated life Bellatrix Lestrange was living, she thought, eyeing her sister and her mother and her master. But she would not have it any other way.

**Author's Note: Whew! Always good to see Bellatrix in peak killer warrior form, no? So, he** **does want**   **her to make a Horcrux, after all — and he wants her murder victim to be Snape. How will** **these logistics**   **work out?** **Hmmm** **.**

**Side note - Ginny the St. Bernard puppy is** **really** **cute but** **very** **time-consuming (even more so than my five-year-old human), so my writing may be** **a bit** **more sparse for**   **a bit** **. Thanks for understanding.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	26. Horcrux

Bellatrix stood outside the Snape household in Spinner's End in Cokeworth. She aimed her wand at the drab row house and narrowed her eyes.

" _Incendio_ _,_ " she incanted, and flames shot out from her wand and rocketed through a windowpane, shattering the glass. " _Incendio_ _._ _Incendio_ _._ "

Bellatrix quickly Disillusioned herself and sprinted down the sidewalk away from the house as the flames took hold. She hid behind a Muggle automobile as the Snape house began to burn. Flames licked at the windows and began peeking outside, and Bellatrix smirked. She curled her fingers round the edge of the car where she was hiding and watched as Muggle neighbours began running out of their houses, yelling at one another to phone the fire brigade. Bellatrix began to realise that the Snapes were not at home. After all, Eileen Prince, Severus Snape's mother, was a witch who was more than capable of putting out a fire. But the house just burned and burned.

Suddenly a black blur appeared at the opposite side of Spinner's End - an Apparition. Bellatrix sucked in air as she realised that Severus Snape had appeared out of thin air. She smirked. Her plan had worked. The trap she had set had yielded her prey. Snape must have set alarming wards on his family's home, owing to the war. Perfect.

Bellatrix charged out from behind the car, dashing down the street through the crowd of gaping Muggles. They were all staring helplessly at the burning Snape house, at the way the flames were spreading next door. Bellatrix kept her eyes focused on Severus Snape and aimed her wand at him as she ran.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ " she screamed, using every bit of breath in her lungs. Her Killing Curse exploded forth with the fury of a hundred bombs, shooting Snape's body backward against a car so hard that the metal of the car crumpled a little. There was a violent flash of green light that lit up the street like a firework. The Muggles screamed, very evidently confused as to what had happened. Bellatrix, still Disillusioned, trotted up to Snape and stared into his blank, black eyes. His mouth hung open ungracefully. His wand lay broken on the ground beside him. He was quite obviously dead. Bellatrix grinned and Disapparated away from the scene.

When she came to in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, she sprinted up to the house, her boots squeaking on the damp grass. She ran and ran through the spindly rose bushes, remembering the way Voldemort had taken two leaves and made her gloves out here. She remembered the way she'd told him out here that she loved him. She ran and ran until she reached the main doors, and she threw them open with magic. She skittered past Dobby in the foyer and slipped going up the marble steps, laughing as she caught herself. Suddenly she remembered the awful night she'd killed Rodolphus, when she'd been dragged in here, when Lucius and Narcissa had had to help her, when Voldemort had first called her a widow. That seemed so long ago now.

She made a mad dash through the corridors of the manor until she reached her master's office, and once she was there, she banged loudly on Voldemort's door with a heavy fist. She kept knocking until the door swung open, and Voldemort scowled deeply.

"What the blazes is the matter?" he demanded.

"Severus Snape is dead, Master," Bellatrix giggled. His face twisted with shock and then glee, and she elaborated, "I murdered him in cold blood in Cokeworth, outside his parents' burning home."

There was a split second of silent stillness, and then Voldemort snatched Bellatrix's face in his hands and kissed her roughly. He shoved his tongue into her mouth and dragged it against the roof of her mouth, and she moaned. He pulled her into his office, slamming the door shut. He wrenched her up against the wall and kept kissing her ferociously, yanking at her hair and bruising her lips with his. He ground himself against her as he started to go hard, his cock pushing against Bellatrix's belly. She gasped onto his mouth and offered breathlessly,

"Shall I use my mouth to give you pleasure, My Lord?"

"Not now. We need to act quickly, whilst the stain of murder is fresh on your soul," he said. He seized her wrist, and Bellatrix felt her heart race as he opened his office door and pulled her back out into the corridor. They made their way through the labyrinthine manor until they reached the double doors of his quarters. Inside his great room, he began soundproofing, which alarmed Bellatrix. Was she going to shriek and scream during this process?

"Change into a nightgown," he commanded her. "I'll be back in a few moments; I'm going to tell Abraxas that I'll be out of commission for a few days."

He left then, and Bellatrix did as he commanded and changed clothes. Her hands were shaking fiercely all the while. She paced nervously, knitting her fingers together with her wand in her right hand as she waited for Voldemort to return. She relieved herself, just in case, and she washed her face for some reason. When at last he returned, he told her,

"Make yourself as comfortable as possible in the bed."

Bellatrix climbed onto her side of the bed and arranged herself beneath the blankets with her head on the pillow. She gripped her wand carefully, and then she felt Voldemort press something into her left palm. The emerald. Her Horcrux. She squeezed it almost affectionately, and she stared at him.

"I love you, Master," she told him.

"And I love you," he said with sincere confidence. "Now. Repeat after me.  _Caedis_ _, Cruor, Homicidium._ _Maculant_   _animam_   _meam_ _. Anima_ _mea_   _dividitur_   _est_ _."_

" _Caedis_ _, Cruor, Homicidium._ _Maculant_   _animam_   _meam_ _. Anima_ _mea_   _dividitur_   _est_ _."_  Bellatrix felt her eyes go heavy, and she felt pressure in her chest as she repeated the spell. She heard Voldemort's voice say,

" _Anima_ _divida_ _, anima_ _eterna_ _. Horcrux meus_ _finctus_   _est_ _. Horcrux meus_ _finctus_   _est_ _. Horcrux meus_ _finctus_ _est_ _."_

She struggled to repeat after him, but forced the words out. " _Anima_ _divida_ _, anima_ _eterna_ _. Horcrux meus_ _finctus_   _est_ _. Horcrux meus_ _finctus_   _est_ _. Horcrux meus_ _finctus_   _est_ _._ "

Suddenly Bellatrix was screaming, but she knew that she was silent. She could feel herself having a violent seizure. It seemed to go on forever. She was convulsing, her back arching, her body shaking. Her fist tightly clenched the emerald, unwilling to release the Horcrux. After what felt like an eternity, the seizure ended, and Bellatrix gasped for air, only then realising she hadn't been breathing.

Then fire swept through Bellatrix's veins. It was a powerful sensation of being burned alive, a searing and awful heat that would not fade. She was immobile, but she screamed with all her might. She could feel Voldemort petting her hair, speaking words of comfort to her.  _It will end,_  he was telling her.  _This will not last forever._

Perhaps a day later, Bellatrix began to feel stabbing pain in the marrow of her bones. She felt like someone was sawing into every bone in her body. She felt like someone was sticking needles into every pore in her skin, like her blood was being drained one drop at a time with maximum pain. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to explode. Her head was pounding and thudding. Her stomach twisted and ached as though she had never eaten before. Her heart seemed as though it would pound straight out of her chest. Her skin felt like it was being cut with a hundred razor blades at once. All the while, Voldemort spoke calmly and quietly to her, pressing cool cloths to her forehead and kissing her cheeks and murmuring that he did love her deeply.

Bellatrix could neither move nor speak, and she had no idea how much time had passed. She couldn't remember anymore what it felt like not to hurt. She couldn't remember a life without agony. Finally, she just fell asleep, profoundly and heavily. She was lost to a deep, dreamless slumber. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware of a piece of her soul departing her.

When she blinked her eyes open at long last, Voldemort was sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking haggard and tired. His silver scruff had grown in, and Bellatrix realised that days had passed. But Voldemort just looked immensely relieved that Bellatrix had survived the ordeal. He quickly took the emerald from her palm and tucked it into his robes, mumbling hoarsely,

"We shall get this into your Gringotts vault as soon as possible. You have done very well."

"Master," Bellatrix croaked, sitting up slowly, "am I… am I scarred? Is my face…?"

"Ruined?" He smirked a little and shrugged. He pulled out his wand and Conjured her a simple mirror. He handed it to her, and she stared at her reflection. It was bad, but perhaps not as bad as she'd been expecting. Her face was gaunt and thin, and her skin was so pale it looked like snow. She had a long thin scar running from her forehead to her chin, bypassing her eye, nose, and lips. She had another raised white scar making it look like her throat had been slit. She seemed like a doll raised from the dead, in a way.

"Am I hideous now, Master?" Bellatrix turned her face to look at Voldemort, observing all of his many imperfections that had come from creating Horcruxes. He shook his head firmly.

"You are beautifully immortal," he said, "and you are mine."

"And you and I shall be together, Master?" Bellatrix asked uncertainly.

"Forever, if you please." Voldemort took the mirror from her and set it down, and he cupped her jaw in his hand. He tipped her chin up to his face and sighed. "Sometimes terrible accidents happen so that wondrous sequences of events might follow. I am sorry that Rodolphus is dead, Bellatrix. Really. I mean it. I am sorry he is gone. But I do love you, and I mean to keep you. And you will fight for me, and you will sleep beside me, and when at last I reign atop this entire wizarding world, you will stand beside me… beautifully immortal. Now kiss me."

She gave him a weak smile and nodded. "Yes, Master."

He pushed his lips onto hers, and she was lost.

THE END

**Author's Note: It's always so difficult to decide where to end a story, but when it feels like it's reached its natural conclusion, and there's declining interest/readership, it's just time to wrap it up! I have had so much fun writing this story, and I'm so incredibly grateful for all those who have read and especially those who have given feedback. Thank you so very kindly. I hope you'll join me for my next project, which probably won't be for a few weeks as I am taking a little break to do some real-life projects (kid's school yearbook!) and some original writing. Thanks again so much.**


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